


For What It's Werth

by Brennah_K



Category: Criminal Minds, NCIS, NCIS: Los Angeles, Numb3rs (TV)
Genre: Episode: s05e10 Corporal Punishment, Ian's a champion schlepper, Jethro gets clued in, Owen gets a promotion and a new job - lucky him, Tony DiNozzo Leaves NCIS Team, a bit of canon bashing but it deserves it, but it's there and you may notice it, slight language alert
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-29
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2020-09-29 21:27:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 30,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20442797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brennah_K/pseuds/Brennah_K
Summary: Tony had … mostly… given up the fantasy that Gibbs could or would ever settle into the role of surrogate father. So, it shouldn't have hurt so much to watch Gibbs willingly stretch himself with Damon Werth, the should-have-been-Silver-star-medal-recipient, now disgraced for having taken the illegal but clearly effective route of steroids to overcome an anaemic disorder and become the marine's marine he had become.He should have been used to life's little reality checks, by now. He really should have, but who was he kidding, no matter how much Tony had tried to convince himself that he had grown out and of beyond the need for it, something in Tony still wanted and needed acceptance and approval from his chosen father figure.But if he hadn't been clinging so desperately to that last little pathetic illusion, it couldn't have gained the mental and emotional power to become his last straw - snapping before the narcotics easing his dislocated shoulder had even worn off. That may have been a blessing, though - in and of itself- allowing Tony to stay numb as he planned his exit from NCIS, the MRCT, and his wistfully-chosen, once-upon-a-time family.





	1. Part One of Part One.

"Thanks, Ian." Tony sighed, "Glad I could make someone happy with my pathos. Yeah, I know. … … No, seriously, I know you didn't mean it like that, don't worry. I have thicker skin than that… Oh, I do too. … … ... Fine, fine. I'll let you make it up to me Friday. … No, just tired and the pain meds are wearing off quicker than I'd like." 

"Thanks for understanding. I'll give you a call to finalize plans." 

Looking down at his planned list of calls, Tony sighed and drew a fine, almost steady line through Ian's name and moved on to the next punching the numbers in wearily. 

"Hey Steve, have a minute?" 

Waiting while his frat-brother apparently got up to close his office door, before giving Tony the go ahead, Tony rested his forehead in his hand, wishing that he didn’t have to do this when he was still tired and hurting but if he wanted things to work out as smoothly as he’d like, he was under some pretty close time constraints. 

"You didn't have to do that, but thanks." 

"Tony, you call me during work hours for the first time in 17 years, and you think I'm not going to sit up and take notice? " 

"Oh, come on, we've talked during work hours." 

"When I've called you! Trust me, Tony, it's not a complaint; you're just more considerate than the rest of us, but we've always known that, and... that's not what you called to discuss, I'm sure." 

"Seque appreciated, thanks. Soooo, do you remember back when you were dating the future assistant district attorney, joking about becoming a professional 'fixer'? How would you like an opportunity to put those skills into practice and make a couple of connections along the way?" 

"Tony, Man, what the hell? You sound wrecked, and on top of it, you need a fixer? What the hell have you gotten pushed into, and who is doing the pushing? What kind of trouble are we looking at?" 

Touched by his friend's clear concern and automatic use of ‘we’, despite the assumption that they'd be facing trouble, Tony was flooded with a wave of longing for their old camaraderie. If he'd managed to hold on to that feeble sense of family he'd once believed was developing before they'd lost Kate, he'd have never thought about leaving the team, much less have had an unconsciously- readied grocery list of things to do as he left that had taken roughly seven minutes to write out with no significant additions to be made during the forty some minutes following that he'd sat staring at the list in shock… stunned by how ready he'd been to leave without realizing that he was ready to walk away from the place and people he'd anticipated being around until he retired. 

"Come on, Bro, talk to me here." Steve interrupted his melancholy musing. 

"Bro? Steve, really? You're 38… gainfully employed in the private sector, and never once said 'Bro' when you were sharing a dorm two doors down. I appreciate the diversion and attempt at humor, but it's not needed, and I'm not in trouble." 

"Tony, if you could hear your voice right now, you wouldn't believe a word you just said." 

"Ok, it's been a rough couple of days here, and I'm probably not in the best place mentally, but I'm not in trouble… just … I'm… I'm done here. I have a few things to wrap up and a few arrangements that I'd like your help with, but otherwise, that's it for NCIS." 

Steve was silent for several seconds, in which Tony was internally cringing at the lecture he suspected Steve was getting ready to deliver. 

"Oh, Thank God." The uttered response was so deeply relieved that Tony was taken aback. 

"Steve?" 

"What did you want me to say, Tony? Maybe a couple of years ago, I'd have tried to argue you out of it, or at least to get you to think twice about sticking to a career posting, but the past two - three years? Where do I even start? The plague? Your partner being fatally shot? Being framed for murder by a lab tech, who - I'm sorry does NCIS not do background checks- because they dropped the ball on that one? And Cassidy? Not to mention the car bomb! Christ! A car bomb, Tony! None of us have wanted to say anything, but I know I'm not the only one who has been worrying that you won't make it to our next reunion." 

"... … I - I don't know what to say…Steve... I'm sorry." 

Tony could hardly believe what he was hearing: it had never occurred to him that his frat-brothers had paid much attention to what had been going on at work - from their irregular calls and updates, much less discussed any of it, as they must have since Steve had been involved in a major court case during the Benoit op, and they hadn't talked for a while after the op until the trial was over much less spent more than a few minutes catching up even then. 

"Again, not complaining, Tony. We've always known that it's what you signed up for, but there are some of us who feel closer to you than we feel to our own families, and speaking just for myself, I'm not ready to lose my favorite brother." 

His throat too tight to speak for a moment, Tony didn't know how to respond, and for the first time in a long time, didn't try to force a glib response. Unlike the people he worked with, his frat-brothers had called him on his masks before his sophomore year, and made it clear that they wanted to deal with ‘real Tony’, not masks 1-10.

By the time they graduated, Steve in particular, but most of his other frat-brothers, as well, had learned to anticipate what circumstances would drive Tony speechless, so his friend wasn’t put off by his long silence and quickly moved the conversation on, "Tell you what: I'm not working on anything important right now, and it sounds like your schedule is freeing up. Let me close up here and drop in: we can hash out the nitty gritty details better in person to begin with, and I'd like to get a better idea of your plans. I might have a few ideas of my own." 

“Okay, yeah, that would work. And Steve, thank you, it’s really appreciated.” Tony agreed with a sigh. As much as he didn’t feel up to visitors, Steve was right, and really, considering his goals, he’d probably need all the help he could get to finesse this thing. Steve seemed to understand and closed the conversation out with a brief ‘see ya soon’ - letting Tony move on to his next call. 

“Hey Ernie… No, I’m not calling to cancel. I need to ask you a favor...” 

ブレンキン

Tony could appreciate the numb expression that had overtaken Corporal Werth’s marine-trained impassivity as the marine scanned the file that had Tony and Delores had put together for him (another of Tony’s called-in favors). Delores was a gem and had come up with a couple of angles that Steve, Tony, and even A.J. hadn’t come up with. 

Flipping back to the first page, the corporal read through the file again, before looking back up at Tony with confusion and mild suspicion in his eyes after briefly scanning his eyes over Tony’s still-needed sling. 

“Why are you doing this?” Werth challenged gruffly. 

“Rule 5,” Tony answered feeling a tad (morosely) nostalgic. He wasn’t going to say the words, but knew they were true - even if it felt like one more little bit of his dynamic with Gibbs being co-opted by Werth. 

“The MLB Draft Rule? What does this have to do with 40 and under rostered-teams being able to pull players from other clubs?” 

“Aside from being strangely appropriate in this instance, nothing in particular. Don’t worry, I’m pretty certain that you will get a thorough grounding on Rule 5 in the near future. I’m afraid I just don’t have time enough to explain it at the moment, and need to get your signature on that … if your good with it?” 

Being the true marine he was, Werth visibly clamped down on the questions he must have had, gave a jerky nod, and signed the pages where Delores had sticky-noted’ the signature lines, before handing the folder back to Tony. 

“What’re you doing here, DiNozzo?” Gibbs grumbled at him from the doorway. 

“Just getting Corporal Werth’s signature to finish off the paperwork, Boss.” Tony answered, lifting the file by way of explanation, ignoring the inherent lie that it was. He’d explained the need for ‘discretion’ to Werth before handing over the file and was trusting that the marine wouldn't spill the beans on Tony's diversion. 

From Gibbs' expression, Tony knew that his boss could tell that there was more to Tony's visit than that, but was irked because he didn't have enough information to speculate. Still, Tony had no intention of lingering to suffer his boss's suspicion, or worse his favoritism toward the corporal. 

He wasn't quite fast enough to avoid an unintentional glimpse of it, though, overhearing Gibbs as the door closed. 

"He bothering you?" 

Wincing at the assumption and concern, Tony didn't wait for the door to hit him on the way out, so didn't hear the Corporal's reply. 

ブレンキン

As he left the witness stand, ignoring the obviously open seat with the rest of the NCIS team, who were sitting just behind the ‘prosecuting’ JAG officer, Tony walked past them to turn left into the third row behind Corporal Werth and his counsel. Scooting-in past one of Werth’s convalescing unit, he sat in the saved seat beside Ernie. Nodding to Davenport’s assistant, who was sitting further to the left past Ernie engaged in a quiet but animated discussion with Steve, Tony leaned over to Ernie asking in a quiet stage whisper, “How has it been going?” 

Ernie jerked his chin down in a determined nod. “Good, I think, but who knows what the ‘officers’ think. Sshh, I want to hear this.” 

Retired Rear Admiral, former Judge Advocate General, A.J. Chegwidden looked over his shoulder with a wry smile at slightly louder than appropriate comment, dropping his chin in a respectful nod and murmured a brief thank you, before he turned back to the convening panel to begin his closing argument. 

"As we have an unprecedented number of character witnesses attending this hearing in support of Corporal Werth, and defense counsel is generally permitted some leeway in questioning witnesses and making final statements, I believe that it is rather a worthwhile exercise to elucidate for those who may not be familiar - the nature of article 32 hearings. In circumstances where the causes are considered sufficient to pursue court martial as potential punishment, before a defendant can be referred to a general court martial, an article 32 hearing must be held in order to determine whether there is evidence of malfeasance meriting a general court martial; however, it should be noted that in the event the offender is judged guilty of misbehavior, the convening body is not restricted to levying a court martial. The convening body may also elect to order non-judicial punishments including but not limited to demotion, reassignment of duty station, and administrative separation. '(*) A commanding officer, in the role as court-martial convening authority, will consult with the command judge advocate for advice on case disposition; in which, the factors to be considered include relevant statutes and articles of the code of conduct, the seriousness of the offenses, the strength or weakness of each element of the case, the promotion of good order and discipline, and the commander's desire for case disposition.'

'The witnesses called today have spoken to each of these points: under Article 112a, steroid use is illegal unless prescribed by a physician. Corporal Werth stipulates to the fact that in order to meet the Corp's health and stamina requirements, he has regularly taken steroids without the benefit of a prescription; regrettably, however, while the steroid cocktail the corporal took was accepted treatment in Europe and Canada, it was not approved until a year and a half after Corporal Werth was deployed on his first assignment and was not an eligible course of treatment until three months after that. Unfortunately, unlike other soldiers who have been given recruitment waivers after the use of illegal drugs and contraband substances including cocaine, opiates, and similar, the Marine Corps has not gotten around to defining the requirements for waivers on the un-prescribed use of steroids in treating medical conditions, so even if Corporal Werth had reported the treatment of his health condition, a waiver would not have been available. Given Dr. Sutherland's detailed statement of the proposed 'experimental treatments' being researched for use with active service members, though, we can surmise that future waivers are likely as three of the seventeen '_in service_' treatments focus on and utilize similar steroid blends." 

"Further, while the continued withholding of the nature of his medical rehabilitation increases the severity of the offense, Corporal Werth’s service record, the provided witness statements of his drill sergeants and subsequent commands, and the statements of his unit and attending character witnesses confirm that this sole, if continued, circumstance is the only mar to the Corporal’s records. Each and every command has recommended him on his diligence, commitment, and service to the Corp, on the consistency of his behavior and his reliability in both leadership and support positions, and his adherence in all other manners to the good order and discipline of the Corp. Similarly, following the only vacation he has taken during his service, to attend SAS training, the British command returned the reports of high commendation, also included in the submitted written testimonies, which in part reiterate their appraisal of Corporal Werth as an exemplar Marine and a desired participant in future joint operations. While counter to article 112a, Corporal Werth’s actions have in no other manner impugned his trustworthy status in the eyes of his command nor his unit.” 

“To the last point, ‘the commander's desire for case disposition’, not only do you have the formal recommendations of Corporal Werth’s current and previous commands to demonstrate leniency on the basis of his service record, even before the actions which lead to his recommendation for the Silver Star, but you additionally have the recommendation of the Secretary of the Navy, submitted by Secretary Davenport’s Deputy Secretary Joshua Fielding.” 

“As you will read, Secretary Davenport notes that while the unprescribed -and thereby - illegal use of steroids even for the treatment of medical conditions is a serious issue, the Marine Corp would be done a serious disservice by being deprived the service of a ‘Marine’s Marine’ for the sole purpose of making an example of a marine who - in the eyes of everyone he has served with - has represented the best and most noble qualities of dedicated marines. Similarly, it is the Secretary’s recommendation that the consideration of the conveyance of the Silver Star be considered a separate issue to be assessed and awarded or denied solely on the basis of Corporal Werth’s service record and performance on the battlefield - noting that refusing the conveyance of awards for heroism on issues that many would view as justified does nothing in the furtherance of the Corps’ order or morale.

Secretary Davenport further suggests that -until the Marine Corps has administratively concluded the issue of medical waivers toward steroid use, as well as the possibility that such waivers can be retroactively applied as they are in other services and agencies - that Corporal Werth be reassigned from his current duty to a temporary or permanent secondment with agencies which support the Corp and its members, but for whom the waivers of steroid use for medical treatment is not in conflict. The details of three of these potential postings were provided with Secretary Davenport’s recommendations.” 

“For these reasons, the defense requests that the convening board order the non-judicial punishment option of the reassignment of Corporal Werth’s duty station to one of the recommended postings while the details of medical waivers is addressed and administrative separation to the recommended posting if Corporal Werth’s actions are subsequently deemed to be in conflict with the Corps final decision on these matters. Thank you.” 

Tony had to fight to suppress a grin as the ever-composed, Lieutenant Faith Coleman - playing the role of the reluctant and sympathetic prosecutor rose to give her closing ‘argument’; he would have felt bad for her having to argue against her former boss’ boss, to condemn a marine who’d taken the wrong path to ‘being the best’ marine he could be ~~OORAH~~ with the boss’s boss’s boss or the boss’s boss’s boss’s boss… (he wasn’t really certain where the Sec Nav fell in her hierarchy - other than pretty much at the top) supporting the defendant, if he hadn’t worked his tail off the past couple of days to stack the deck so thoroughly against her. As it was, if it hadn’t been for Steve helping there was no way he could have gotten all the depositions taken and processed properly so they could stand up in a military court. 

Still, for facing daunting and, maybe not overwhelming odds, but as close to them as Tony could manage, Coleman played ‘remarkably composed’ very well, which he found a little daunting. Surely, she wasn’t going to still recommend the ‘making an example’ - court martial - and - stripped of all honors route. Not after meeting Ernie and seeing how deeply he still suffered from the effects of his own acts of heroism and service in freaking World War II. It was one of the reasons he'd asked Ernie to come to the hearing. The other was he really thought that Ernie and Werth might hit it off and give both men more connections. Tony knew more than most how much it sucked feeling cut loose and alone after giving your all to the people you served and served with. 

“On consideration of the evidence and testimonies presented, as the investigating officer representing the interests of the United States’ Armed Forces, I can find no objection to the recommended course of actions with two stipulations: first, that Corporal Werth continue with medical and psychological treatment for both the pre-existing medical condition precipitating his reliance on steroids, his subsequent dependence on steroids - as needed, and the initially diagnosed PTSD. Second, that the Corporal should be further assessed for the possibility of suffering a psychotic break. While Dr. De La Casa’s assertion Dr. Mallard has received the requisite training to superficially diagnose a psychotic break but lacks sufficient experience with long term treatment of symptoms of battle-induced PTSD sufficiently to make a differential diagnosis between the extreme states and Agents DiNozzo and David’s testimonies that even at the height of his distressed state Corporal Werth did not use lethal force to resist which Corporal Werth was easily capable of - strongly support Dr. De La Casa’s narrative, before the Corporal is placed in returned to a potentially high-stress or sensitive position he is assessed for this potential.” 

Well, Tony couldn’t really argue with that one, especially as it was already stipulated in one of the forms that the Corporal had signed off on for the new positions. 

After a couple more comments that Tony only kept half an ear out for, the board announced that they would be ‘convening to discuss the matter in their offices to discuss the matter,’ which Tony strongly suspected meant that were actually going to the back room to call the Sec Nav, Sec Def, or ‘Sec’ up of their choice to find out what the big bosses actually want done now that the public relations gods had been appeased. Tony was hopeful that Davenport would actually stand behind his words, though, especially as the Sec Nav had been quick to pronounce Senator Hawkins a ‘dipshit’ and his public relations officer something a little less polite than that, before including a particular mention of Werth’s medal status into his recommendations. Hopefully, it wasn’t all for show. 

The board returned a ‘respectable delay’ later, which -to Tony - was so short after their departure that - in Tony’s mind - their decisions had been made before they’d left their seats and they’d waited just long enough (probably watching the synchronized second hands on their watches) that it wouldn’t have been obvious they’d only taken long enough to make a phone call or two for permission could go through with their decision. 

“All Rise.” 

“Corporal Werth, remain standing. Everyone else may be seated.” 

~~~ And the point of having everyone stand was???~~~ Tony thought snarkily as he helped Ernie return to his seat. 

“Corporal, after careful consideration,” ~~~ This is what comes from watching too much court tv. ~~~ Tony sighed, just wanting them to get on with it; it had been a seriously long week. 

“We have concurred with both the defense and investigating counsels’ recommendations and decided to approve the change of duty station and secondment as proposed by Secretary Davenport, with one further remonstration and a stipulation. Corporal - to a one - every member of this board commends you both for your clearly exemplary service and heroism.” 

~~~ uh-oh ~~~ that didn’t sound like a good start, even if they were agreeing to the recommendations, there was going to be a catch; Tony was sure of it and hoped it wasn’t one that would screw with his plans. 

“Had you not taken the efforts that you did, to secure your position in the marines, it is highly unlikely that at least twelve other marines would have returned home, and we cannot condemn the fact that your actions - even in breaking Article 112A repeatedly - brought about this result; however, breaking Article 112A should - in any other instance - have resulted in your General Court Martial. While you may not have suffered a psychotic break as Dr. Mallard believed, by becoming addicted to the steroids you were using to self-medicate, you put fellow marines, civilians, and yourself repeatedly at risk … and that cannot go unaddressed.” 

~~~ ’Crap.’ ~~~ Tony thought to himself, not realizing that he’d spoken out loud until Ernie chuckled. 

“Don’t worry, Tony. I know these types.” Ernie whispered back still a little too loud, but thankfully the mouthpiece for the board seemed more amused by the elderly man’s behavior than anything else. 

“To that end, the final decision on this matter will be held pending your completion of an addiction treatment program. If you fail to attend and complete an approved program within sixty days, the investigating officer will be instructed to initiate an investigation and court-martial proceedings - during which you will be favored with far less leniency than you are now receiving. If you successfully complete the addiction program and comply with the stipulations set forth by the investigating officer, this matter will be closed without further loss of rank, benefits, or other conveyances. Whether or not the steroids got you into the Marines, Corporal, you earned the rank, and - if the decision were ours - the Medal of Honor. That decision is not ours to make, however. With that said, it will be up to you to keep the rank and everything that goes with it, but as was clearly demonstrated today, whether you receive a medal or not, you have earned the respect and gratitude of fellow marines, and should be proud of that fact - whatever the outcome.” 

“I am, Sir.” Corporal Werth answered gruffly, his emotions clear in his voice. 

“Then with that said, Lieutenant Coleman, I will expect to receive a follow up report in sixty days. This hearing is adjourned.” 

With that, the board made a quick exit, leaving the assembled to converge on Werth and congratulate the visibly stunned marine, including Gibbs, the rest of the team, and Lieutenant Faith. For his part, though, Tony didn’t join the cluster of people surrounding the man. After patting Ernie on the shoulder and reminding him that their plan for lunch on Saturday was still in the works, Tony slipped out a side exit. 

This was just part one of his plan, and he had a couple more parts to put into place before he could let himself drift into the woodwork and out of Team Gibbs’ hair collectively and memories respectively. 


	2. Bearding the Dragon in Her Den

Delores, Ian, and Director Morrow were waiting for Tony as he and Deputy Secretary Fielding reached Cynthia's desk. 

"Director Morrow, I didn't expect to see you here." 

"Well, Phillip and I had a brief discussion after you and your attorney-friend left his office and came to the decision that certain details of your pending reassignment are need to know only, including the scope, timeline, and origination." 

Director Morrow's tone was entirely too dry, but his words were more than enough to make Tony’s throat tighten; without saying so directly, Morrow was letting him know that both Morrow (as Homeland Security Director) and the Sec Nav weren’t just standing behind him and supporting his exit plan, they were essentially ‘standing in front of him’ (to continue the metaphor) and putting up a smokescreen to buffer him from any negative feedback from Shepard or Gibbs - or, at least, to lessen it. 

Tony was rather certain that Gibbs wasn’t going to take it well when he found out that Tony was ‘taking a long term assignment’ without his approval (in as much as Gibbs ever approved of anything that Tony did), much less when it dawned on his mentor that Tony wasn’t going to return to the team, which Tony was certain he’d realize well before the final announcement was made. Not that Tony believed either Shepard or Gibbs really valued his place on the team, and after the La Grenouille debacle, he was fairly certain that Jenny would have been more than happy if he’d been too slow to make it off the Chimera before it was torpedoed. 

He'd like to think that Gibbs would at least miss his help with the team paperwork, but equally suspected that any extent of Gibbs missing him would only last as long as it took for the probie to learn the paperwork and set up some ‘bots’ to get it done in his stead. Whether Gibbs cared whether Tony was on his team or not, he was likely to make a stink because he hated when higher ups ‘messed with his team’. The kind of fit he'd have thrown on finding out that the assignment was Tony's exit strategy had actually been born from another idea that Tony and Ian had bandied back and forth at the only conference that he'd attended during his years at NCIS that just coincidentally happened to fall during Gibbs' temporary retirement to Mexico (~~~which was in no way relevant to Tony's attending 'extracurricular' work activities ... AT ALL … … … and moving on~~~) … well, Gibbs' response would have been 'epic' and potentially concussion inducing. 

“Understood, Sir.” Tony nodded, marginally thankful when Director Shepard chose that moment to step out her door - saving him from a potentially ‘unmanly’ show of relief and gratitude, though Delores and Director Morrow’s slight smirks suggested that he’d been easier to read than he generally preferred to be. 

“Gentlemen, please come in. Tony, thank you for escorting them up; you can go back to work now.” The director ordered, a bit too sweetly, while seeming to completely misread the situation. 

Deputy Secretary Fielding cleared his throat in a somehow chiding manner as he corrected, "Jennifer, Agents DiNozzo and Edgerton will be attending this meeting." 

"And just who is this other agent?" the director questioned, clearly attempting to pin down the purpose of the meeting in case she needed to come up with a defense. 

"Our 'visit' is both a courtesy and a formality, Jennifer;" Fielding continued, "however, whether a formality or not, the topics we are here to address are not up for public discussion." 

"Yes, yes, of course, please let's retire to my office." Director Shepard offered with a too polite smile that nevertheless communicated -if in a ladylike fashion- how truly pissed off the director was not only with being contradicted in front of her soon-to-be-former-agent (though she of course didn’t know it, yet, even though the presence of the Sec Nav’s Deputy Secretary and another department director should have been a big clue there)... but also with being publicly chastised and treated as if she were an afterthought only addressed as ‘a formality’ (and Tony was really beginning to like the deputy secretary for that alone). 

“Now, Gentlemen, to what do I owe this pleasure?” Director Shepard asked, closing the door behind them and heading - somewhat tastelessly - to her desk instead of the conference room table and sliding into the ‘big chair’ in a blatant attempt to reassert a little bit of her authority. 

While Tony wasn’t particularly a fan of political maneuvering, he had to admit that he found her attempt rather graceless and thought they should have been able to expect a little more skill from someone of her rank. 

The Deputy Secretary appeared to agree as he noticeably refused to pander to the attempt, stopping just far enough inside the door to insure his comments wouldn’t be picked up by someone standing just outside, but noticeably not following her to her desk or moving toward the conference table, which would have been appropriate if seeming somewhat petty. 

Instead, Fielding simply smiled thinly and explained, “As I said, this is simply a formality, Jennifer, but Phillip preferred that I inform the affected directors in person instead of official communication channels to reduce the shall we call it paper-trail associated to the matter in question. To that end, I am here to inform you that Agent DiNozzo will be accepting a lateral-reassignment for an indefinite period of time.” 

Although he didn’t say so in as many words, the Deputy Secretary’s phrasing and understated tone suggested that Tony would be accepting the assignment whether he wished to or not, and Tony could have kissed him for it ~~Seriously, Full on the Lips, French-Kissed him ~~ for that, and for the director’s expression in response to it. 

“Ms. Bromstead has the transfer order prepared for your signature, which again I will be taking with me to reduce the unnecessary visibility of associated documents.” As Fielding spoke, Delores walked over to her desk, similarly ignoring the seats to stand over the director’s shoulder, open the file, and point toward the sticky note arrows indicating where Shepard was expected to sign as if the director might have had difficulty figuring it out. 

“Yes, yes, I know where to sign,” the director grumped, and Delores ~~ being the rock star that she was ~~ smiled benignly, answered in a mild, completely inoffensive tone, “Of course, Ma’am, but considering how easily documents can be misfiled or improperly signed, it is always better to make ‘everything’ as clear as possible.” … And even Deputy Secretary Fielding appeared to recognize that Delores was ‘getting a little of her own back’ judging from the man’s quickly hidden smirk in reaction to the NCIS director’s just as quickly hidden glower. 

In normal circumstances, it would have been an incredibly foolish mistake to make, but Tony, Director Morrow, and undoubtedly Director Shepard knew that Delores had that particularly difficult to overcome form of political immunity that came from someone being born into an extremely-politically connected family (the multiple members embedded in the Whitehouse sort of extreme) who rose into her position without a hint of nepotism or using the influence that rested at her fingertips and then proceeded to keep it by diligence, industry, and unbroachable integrity. Tony had teased her once that it would take a nuclear missile fired at close range to get her out of her position, to which her utterly dry and more than perfect response had been that no doubt there were some who had considered the possibility but decided the attempt wouldn’t be cost effective or guaranteed. ~~~God, he was going to miss Delores.~~~ 

Despite claiming that she knew where she was expected to sign, Shepard was doing a serious amount of not signing as she read through the boiler-plate forms - clearly trying to pick up a clue or two of where Tony was being transferred, and Tony was almost counting down the seconds until her eyes caught the ‘assignment details in secured attachment note’ and realized that she hadn’t been provided the ‘secured attachment’. 

~~~ And Bham! ~~~ That grimace was almost … almost … worth the Rene Benoit debacle. Actually, it wasn’t anywhere near worth it, but Tony didn’t mind getting his pleasure where he could. 

“Actually, these forms appear to be incomplete. There is nothing included regarding Tony’s pending placement.” Shepard retorted. 

“Jennifer, I believe that I clearly stated that Agent DiNozzo, Agent Edgerton, and Agent Granger’s reassignments were not being processed through official communication channels to reduce paper-trail connections associated to the matter in question.” 

“Yes, of course, Joshua. You had mentioned it; however, certainly, you can understand that as the Director of the agency providing one of the participants in … the operation you seem to be recruiting for ~~ fishing much, Jen? ~~~ Tony thought with a mental smirk that he suppressed as she continued, " … that I would like to be certain that NCIS is providing the …” 

The ‘sympathetic-but-reluctantly-required-to-tell-the-truth’ expression Shepard tried to adopt as she noticeably staged a ‘flashed-side-long-look’ at Tony before continuing was so awkward, weak, and... well … fake that it made Tony wondered how she had survived the few undercover roles that she had reportedly taken. 

“... best operative we can for the position?” 

And, seriously, if she tried the ‘I’m-sorry-but-I-do-have-to-ask’ expression, Tony was going to burst out laughing, which Director Morrow appeared to recognize and thankfully shot Tony a quelling glance right as the ‘current’ NCIS director shot him an incredibly trite version of that very expression. 

“Thankfully, Jennifer, there is no need for you to be concerned with that as you are not being read-in to the ‘reassignments’ and do not have the required information to make that assessment. As Tom has been previously read-in on ‘certain aspects’ of Agent DiNozzo’s past service to the Agency and will be tangentially involved in certain aspects of the reassignment, Secretary Davenport was satisfied with Tom’s recommendations.” The Deputy Secretary answered blandly, with such a multi-layered and smoothly delivered ‘smack down’ that the man was seriously risking a full-out, French kiss the minute they stepped out of the office. 

“I see.” Shepard answered sitting back, the pen switching back and forth in her hand, almost visibly fuming at not only at being clearly refused ‘operational information’ but being so politely told that they were seemingly ‘thankful’ that such a decision had not been left in her hands, as well as that there were ‘aspects’ of an underling’s file that she apparently hadn’t rated being read-in on. 

~~~It was glorius!~~~

After being jerked around at the Director’s whim to cover her whole unsanctioned op, being the all-around buffer for everyone’s hurt feelings during Gibb’s Mexican siesta, often simultaneously being accused of acting both too-much like and not-enough like Gibbs to suit everyone’s taste, overworked, constantly-exhausted, and pushed into taking risks that even the dumbest rook (if he or she was even worth hiring) would recognise as idiotic: like say, supposedly ‘maintaining’ a cover (without a backstopped identity) as a film studies instructor while never actually going to any campus but going home each night (where a simple lease check could have proven that Tony Dinardo = Tony DiNozzo) and then to WORK every day at NCIS -- where, of course, an INTERNATIONAL GUN RUNNER would NEVER think to have a minion tailing any NEWcomer in his DAUGHTER's, his much-beloved daughter’s, life because whatever else the man might be Tony had no doubt he loved his daughter - enough to, say, evicerate and execute someone who was trying to get to him through his daughter - say with a car bomb; although, to be fair that was the CIA, but really who could blame them for thinking that Tony had needed a wake up call (and for the CIA, blowing up a potential enemy’s underling in your personal car probably equated to the milder side of possible wake up calls) considering that he'd been taking the already mentioned idiotic only-survivable-because-god-supposedly-protects-fools risks. …. Well, Tony was not above taking mild enjoyment of even the smallest beautifully delivered jibe at her expense, without feeling guilty in the slightest. 

And all the saints and angels bless Director Morrow, who chose that moment to interrupt, “Speaking of which, Jenny, if you could move back a moment…” 

Having no option but to comply, Shepard reluctantly moved aside as the Homeland Security Director walked toward her desk, pausing to pull a silver edged key card out of his wallet and insert it into what must have been a barely visible slot just under the over-hanging edge of NCIS Director’s desk… (based on the way Shepard jumped, she’d clearly never noticed it), waited until they all heard a slight buzzing then a hermetic pop from across the room, then walked across to the conference table, which now had a full side panel now standing out from the rest of the table’s support by 2-3 centimeters. 

“Agent DiNozzo, if you would, your ‘complete’ ~~~ and ‘Boy!’ Tony loved how Director Morrow stressed the word ‘complete’ ~~~ file is in the second enclosed folder on the first shelf. I would like the first and fifth folders as well.” 

“Yes, Sir.” Tony answered, quickly retrieving the specified files and nodding to the director to retrieve his key, closing and locking the sliding cabinet - only too happy to assist in rubbing her lack of knowledge in her face. 

“Why was I not made aware of the existence of these files?” Shepard demanded sharply. 

“Even Directors have probationary periods, Jenny.” Director Morrow scolded with a slightly disappointed tone. 

“Yes, I remember, but that doesn’t really answer the question.” Shepard practically barked, just begging for another ‘smackdown’, which Deputy Secretary Fielding seemed only too happy to deliver. 

“If you only consider it in the most superficial terms, Jennifer, well Tom’s response does actually answer your question fairly directly, but as you don’t seem to have understood it…” 

~~~ Chapstick added to shopping list - check. ~~~ Tony thought to himself, listening with delight to how the Deputy Director carefully enunciated some of the words as he gave them additional stress.

“To state the matter plainly, installing an unvetted foriegn agent into a position with security access severely impacted any consideration of granting you additional clearance and significantly lengthened your probationary status, and the Monsieur Benoit incident has only increased the scrutiny placed upon these considerations. The only reason that I did not ask you to leave while Tom accessed the file location is due to the facts that he is simultaneously removing the most critical files which you have been actively restricted from seeing, he will be taking the access key with him, and the securities placed on accessing the file drawer are somewhat ‘ridiculously high’ even where clearly necessary, given the considerations mentioned.” 

And Tony couldn’t remember ever having seen a more politely delivered verbal backhand, deciding: ~~~ Full-French is seriously not going to be enough appreciation.~~~ 

Grimacing as she glanced past the two visiting echelon, Shepard barely suppressed the glare that Tony was certain that she wanted to shoot at him for being both a witness and vehicle for her humiliation before seeming to decide that she would only face more of the same if she continued to delay signing the transfer order. With a soft disgruntled huff, she twisted her pen in a too- deliberate gesture as if the act would appear contemplative or sophisticated instead of a weak and blatant attempt to project composure, before practically stabbing the signature line and dragging the pen tip in a swirling scribble of ink that for all he could tell was as much of a legal signature as it was a bit of French Provencal scroll work (that didn't quite cut the paper as she seemed to hope). 

Despite Shepard's mini tantrum, Delores didn't hesitate to pull the pages out from under the director's pen as quickly as Shepard signed them, then slap the folder shut with a proclamation of, "Gentlemen, I have what I need." 

"Jennifer", "Jenny," Deputy Secretary Fielding and Director Morrow commented at almost the same time. Tony followed up with wriggled finger wave, and a quiet, "Bye Jen," using for the first time the nickname she had tried repeatedly to get him to use as the team lead, he turned to the door Ian was already opening. 

"Excuse me?" Shepard demanded, finally standing up from the desk. 

"Jennifer?" The Deputy Secretary paused before turning to face her. 

Director Morrow didn't pause for even a step, gesturing for Dolores to step out before him; though, he did leave the door open behind them, giving Tony the chance to hear what was said in his former director's office. 

"While I can certainly understand the necessity of handling Agent DiNozzo's paper work so discreetly, there is still the matter of the visuals be addressed." 

"The visuals?" 

"Yes, he is a prominent member on one of this agency's most prominent teams. While his presence isn't critical to the team's function, his absence is likely to be noticed. Certainly, it makes sense to draft a consistent narrative to explain his absence and discourage the curious from attempting to investigate it." 

"I'm somewhat surprised that I have to remind you of this, Director," ~~~and the disdain in his choice of the title was impressive~~~ "However, as it seems necessary, I would like to remind you that the agents and support staff of this Agency -bar one- are trained, federal law enforcement officers sworn to protect our service members and their families, well as the staff, operations, methods, and secrets of the organizations entrusted with the protection and welfare of the nation and its citizens. '  
  
'The sole consistent narrative necessary to explain Agent DiNozzo's transfer is that, effective immediately, he has accepted appointment to a classified posting, and will be bound by the security and information restrictions of that posting until released from them. Any member of this agency - or otherwise affiliated - would be strongly advised against investigating ANY aspect of ANY confidential operation that is not directly implicated in a concurrent authorized investigation unless they wish to not only forfeit their employment and all related benefit but to also face espionage charges and penalties under the Patriot act." 

"Effective immediately?" Shepard questioned sharply. 

"It really is advisable to read documents before you sign them, Director. Now, as there really aren't any other matters for us to discuss and I have other duties to attend to, I believe I will let you get back to your work; you have some staffing decisions to make." Deputy Secretary Fielding finished, stepping out the door and closing it behind him dismissively, with a curt, "Gentlemen, we have matters to attend to" as he accepted the file from Delores. 

"Ms. Bromstead. Good Afternoon." 

"Good Afternoon, Sirs. Tony, don't be a stranger. Cynthia, if Madam Director asks you to call me, I'm taking a couple of days off. Excuse me, Sir. There was a copy of my leave request included in the paperwork she signed. She has signed off on so many that I felt it hardly needed explanation by comparison to the other matters up for discussion." 

Despite casting a raised eyebrow glance at Director Morrow, the Deputy Secretary thumbed through the file, pulled out the leave request forms, and handed them to Delores, with a thin smile. 

Realizing that he might not get to see her for a while, although he fully planned to check in on her regularly, Tony realized that he couldn't go without giving the staunch HR rep a hug. 

"Delores, you are a rockstar," he whispered into the startled woman's ear, before promising, "if you ever need anything, anything at all, call: I'll have your six." 

"Oh, you," her sigh had touches of amused exasperation, but her smile reached her eyes, so Tony counted it a win even though she awkwardly extracted herself from the hug and hurried away. 


	3. St. Bernards Can Growl, Too

Rolling over onto his stomach, Tony stared out 'his' bedroom window onto a decidedly unfamiliar view, which was only to be expected as 'his' room was actually a bedroom that Ian kept open for any member of his old unit who 'found themselves at loose ends'. While he appreciated having a port in the storm following his somewhat unexpected confrontation with Gibbs the evening before, it slightly irked him that the choice to stay over hadn't really been his own. 

He'd known -at least subconsciously- that he was foolish to think that he'd be able to get away from the office without having to face Gibbs. Even if Gibbs had wanted to help Werth get settled in somewhere, the rest of the team had been there, and Gibbs was certain to make sure that they got back to work on cold cases, if nothing else, before he 'went for coffee' and ended up at Werth’s Barracks or Gibbs own home. Who knew where Werth might be staying? After all, Gibbs had picked him up from the hospital. 

ブレンキン

     For some reason, though, it had still been a surprise - at least to him when his luck failed thoroughly, and Gibbs, Ziva, and McGee arrived in the elevator only a moment after Director Morrow pushed the button to call the elevator car to their floor. 
     "Dammit DiNozzo," Gibbs growled, "What are the charges, this time?"
     ~~~And of course, he'd assume the worst.~~~ 
     Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum's exasperated and disdainful expressions behind Gibbs didn't help Tony's mood in the slightest, and Tony knew his irritation showed more than he liked in his answer, "Gee, Gibbs, thanks for the vote of confidence. I do have to ask, though, how often have you seen Deputy Secretaries and Agency Directors out in the field - personally making arrests? ” 
     ~~~ But he was tired, damn it! Working as hard and fast as he could to make Werth’s case as ‘un-prosecutable’ ~if that's even a word~ as possible had taken almost every thing he’d had left to give over the last few days, and really, he just plain didn’t want to do this right now. He wanted to sleep 14 - 24 hours, wake up for coffee and maybe a cruller, and crash for another 24. ~~~ 
     “Don’t be a wise ass, DiNozzo!” Gibbs almost barked, subconsciously flexing his hand. 
     ~~~ Ahh, ah, ahhhh! ~~~ Tony waggled a mental finger at Gibbs. ~~~ Musn’t headslap underlings in front of former bosses and Deputy Secretaries. ~~~ 
     The gesture, or more tellingly, Gibbs' choice not to use the implied headslap, told its own story to Tony: namely, that Gibbs knew he’d been out of line and ... apparently, hadn’t cared to get caught by a director he respected or the deputy secretary (though Tony thought it was the former more than the latter). Considering that Gibbs hadn’t hesitated in front of ‘Jen’, it said quite a bit about his respect for her as the current director, much less for Tony. 
     “Actually, Agent Gibbs, considering how drastically you are misreading the situation, Agent DiNozzo makes a rather valid point.” the deputy secretary pointed out. 
     ~~~And seriously, does the man have a spandex suit hidden under his ‘mild-mannered’ Armani three-piece? ~~~ 
     “Well, anyone who knows Tony would know it’s the most-likely scenario,” Mcjibe stage whispered behind Gibbs, earning a snicker from Ziva, which had probably made his day, and a slightly vengeful smirk from Gibbs. ~~~ And, wow, who knew that Gibbs had that much control over his expressions.~~~ 
     “Anyone who knows Tony, Gibbs? Or anyone who doesn’t have the skill and awareness to see behind his masks? And, which category do you fall into by the way?” Director Morrow interrupted, challenging Gibbs with a disappointed tone, which - from the man's quickly hidden grimace - had clearly struck home. 
     “Just what exactly is the situation that I’m misreading?” 
     “While the details are not a topic for discussion, inside or outside of the office,” Director Morrow threw in, likely anticipating that Tony would be receiving a summons to Gibbs basement after work, “Agent DiNozzo has been selected for and will be accepting a lateral-reassignment for an indefinite period of time.” 
     “You did what?!?” Gibbs demanded, now completely ignoring the director and deputy secretary, “Conference Room, now!” 
     ~~~Yeah… NO! Not anymore Gibbs.~~~ Tony answered silently with a determined lift of his chin.
     Tony had no intention of practically inviting the headslaps that he knew would be coming on the heels of the few home truths that Tony was too tired (and too tired of being tired of everything) not to share if they took the conversation ‘somewhere private’, besides…. ~~~ Not my boss anymore.~~~ 
     “Sorry, Agent Gibbs, as Director Morrow mentioned, the details aren’t up for discussion … nor are my reasons for accepting.” Tony announced, stiffening his spine and facing up to the man he still respected, despite knowing the respect and fondness clearly weren’t returned. As much as he appreciated Director Morrow, Deputy Secretary Fielding, and the Sec Nav backing his play, he wasn’t going to walk away hiding behind other people - even if he was fucking tired. Gibbs had earned at least that much, despite his failings lately, and frankly, Tony knew he was better than that. 
     “DiNozzo, get your ass in that elevator, or I’ll put it in there.” 
     “Agent Gibbs,” Tony stressed, in a tone that he rarely used in or out of the office, the word ‘Agent’ - hoping that Gibbs finally caught the lack of the word ‘Boss’ along with the lack of the kowtowing. “The decision has already been made; my paperwork submitted; and my transfer is - as Director Morrow stated - effective immediately, so really, I’m done here. There is nothing else I can or will say about the matter - regardless of the location. This posting is particularly suited to certain unique skills and experience that I can bring to the job, and I am happy to do so.”
     “Unique Skills?” Mcjibe stage whispered in the background, snickering, to which Ziva quickly suggested in a less subtle whisper, “perhaps, they need cannon feeder,” which no way in hell was Tony going to correct her on, this time. 
     And Gibbs, expression set on some mix between disgruntled and shocked that Tony would speak to him this way, clearly having forgotten more than Tony had suspected - whether from the Pin Pin Pula incident or not (because really this had been a long slide that had started well before the explosion), glared at Tony before grinding out, “you’re done here when I say you’re done here, and not before.” 
     ~~~ And Oblivious for $1000, Alex ~~~ 
     “Sorry, Gibbs. Not how it works. After the years we’ve worked together, I’d hoped to leave matters on better terms, but regardless of the terms, I am leaving.“ 
     He was tempted to hold out his hand to shake Gibbs' hand in parting but really didn’t want to find out if Gibbs would man-up and shake it in return or try to continue the argument. Whatever else Gibbs was going to say was cut off by Director Morrow. 
     “Enough, Jethro. I suggest that you check in with Director Shepard about the details she’s been given, then - if you still have questions - you and I can discuss them at my office, privately. This discussion is over, and we have other places to be.” 
     With that, Director Morrow reached between them and slapped the elevator button. Surprisingly, the elevator hadn’t been called to another floor ~~~ or was so in tune with Gibbs that it didn’t answer if it had been called (Tony sometimes musingly wondered) ~~~ so they were able to step in immediately. Morrow wasn’t quite done yet, though, and had a parting shot for Gibbs. 
     “By the way, Gibbs get your people in order. What I just saw was completely unacceptable, and the last thing this agency needs is a bunch of ID Ten T’s.” 
     Tony wasn’t quite sure what that reference meant, even though he was familiar with the police ‘Ten codes’ from Baltimore, Philly, and Peoria, but from the way that Mcscandalized squawked, Tony suspected that it was on the geekier side and a ‘good shot’. 
     Electing not to have his disgruntled team’s expressions the last sight he had of the office, Tony glanced beyond the team, intending to just scan the bullpen one last time, but locked on Balboa standing up at his desk trying to catch Tony’s eyes. When he did, Ray grinned broadly at him and gave him a two-handed thumbs up. Grinning back, Tony tossed him a boy-scout salute as the doors closed between them. 
     They had only just reached the underground parking when Tony’s phone buzzed with a text alert. Before Tony had a chance to read it, though, Director Morrow held out his hand for Tony’s phone, demanding it silently. Barely hesitating, Tony obliged the director and was immediately surprised when Morrow simply held his thumb on the messenger ‘alert’ to read the text instead of trying to open it. 
    ~~~ Who knew the Homeland Security Director (who was at least a decade older than Gibbs) was so savvy with new tech?~~~ The raised-eyebrow sneer he gave the screen didn’t bode well for the message nor the sender, and Tony didn’t need to think twice about asking for his phone (or well his assigned phone) back when Director Morrow slid the phone into his own jacket pocket. 
     Director Morrow wasn’t half done, however, and waited until they reached Tony’s rental, before catching Tony’s elbow when he started to walk to the driver’s side, holding his hand out for the keys, which Tony handed over more reluctantly than he had his phone. 
     “First, if you think I haven’t noticed that you aren’t really in any shape to handle beltway traffic at this hour, you’ve forgotten how close an eye I keep on my people; second, I don’t want you going home tonight. Unless I miss my guess, not a single one of the lunkheads left on your former team got the actual point, and I don’t want you there if they show up on your doorstep unannounced. Ian, take him to Quantico and see if you can find him a bunk there, somewhere he can get some peace and quiet, and if you don’t mind letting him use your phone to let any ‘concerned’ ~~~ and boy was that word stressed ~~~ friends know that he’s fine and will have a new number they can reach him at tomorrow, I would appreciate it.” 
     ”Yes, Sir.” 
     “That’s not necessary,” Tony answered uncomfortably, “I can deal with anyone who stops by, and…” 
     “Son, neither Phillip nor I doubted that you could handle yourself and any guests you might receive; that’s not the point. The point is that there are times you shouldn’t have to, and this is one of them. From what I’ve seen and heard, you’ve been everyone’s back-up, foil, and whipping-boy long enough, without someone having your six. Let us step in while you get your footing, and you can take it from there.” 
     “Yes, Sir.” Whether it was Director Morrow’s tone, expression, or use of the word ‘son’, or the combination, but whatever it was, Tony felt humbled by the seeming concern and unaccountably obedient - even if he wasn’t entirely certain he could believe in it. Before he got into the passenger seat, though, he just had to say something to both the director and deputy secretary.
     “You know, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you’d both have spandex suits on under your secret work identities because you both totally rock. I can’t decide who’d be superman and who’d be batman, because you both have the vibes, but spandex all the way.” 
     “I -- well, I am honestly not quite sure to say to that Agent DiNozzo; other than, I believe I will elect to take that as a compliment and wish you a good night’s sleep.” Deputy Secretary Fielding answered in a bemused tone. 
     “Punch drunk is setting in DiNozzo; let Ian get you …” the director paused seeming to rethink what he'd been about to say or possibly how he’d been about to phrase what he wanted to say before simply leaving it with “Get some sleep, Son; we’ll speak in the morning.” ~~~ And, oh yeah, it was definitely the ‘Son’ that did it. ~~~ 
     As the door closed behind him, Tony thought he heard Director Morrow telling the Deputy Secretary, “I think you’ve earned a fan, Joshua.” 
     The Deputy Secretary’s response made Tony feel a bit sad though: “I don’t need a fan, Tom; just someone who’ll do the damn job the way it’s meant to be done.” 
     “Well, you’ve earned that too, trust me.” Tom… no ... Director Morrow’s response sounded at least a little encouraging, but Tony still found Fielding’s answer a little sad. As far as he was concerned, everyone needed a fan or two, someone to cheer them on when it got hard to just get up and do the job sometimes. That wasn’t too much to ask for, was it?” 
     “No, DiNozzo, I don’t think it’s too much to ask for,” Ian chuckled in response, reaching over to pull the seat belt across his torso and buckle it. “Director Morrow had it right, though, about you being punch drunk; when you have an adrenaline crash, you crash hard.” 
     “Yeah,’ Tony grinned giddily-tired, using his hands to make a ‘kaboom’-’crash’-’explosion’ kind of sign with his hands as he tried to do the entry whistle of a bomb dropping, before a final boom. It took him a minute or two or three to actually remember to actually say the ‘boom’, but when he did remember to, it only seemed to make Ian chuckle harder, so that was a win. 
     “I got the picture without the sound effect, but thanks for the follow up. It’s going to be a bit of a drive, so why don’t you catch a cat nap before we have to march halfway across the entry quad?”
     “Zounds Gut,” Tony agreed, mimicking someone whose name he couldn’t remember at the moment before falling soundly asleep. 

ブレンキン

Groaning as he realized that he’d suggested that the Deputy Secretary of the Navy and the Director Homeland Security were wearing superhero costumes under their daywear, Tony pulled a pillow over his head and wished he had the confidence he could suffocate himself with it - without ending up a drooling vegetable because, seriously, he wasn’t going to give Ziva and McGee the satisfaction. 

“Here,” a familiar voice jerked him to alertness, even as he realized that the smell of the coffee that was being pushed into his hand was probably what had woken him up. “Rise and shine, Sleepy-Head, we have a meeting in half an hour.” 

“God, what time is it?” 

“6:00.” 

~~~Christ, he should have known. Quantico was filled with Marines.~~~ 

“What kind of sadist sets a meeting at 6:30 A.M.?” Tony groused; although, he really wasn’t surprised. 

“Eahhhhhhhhnnn.” Ian interrupted his sluggish thoughts with a fair imitation of a game-show ‘wrong-try-again’ buzzer. 

“What? He’s not a sadist?” 

“Nope, and it’s not set for 6:30 ** A.M. ** Director Morrow wanted you to sleep yourself out, and Director Cershaw had a full schedule today, so an after hours meeting seemed the best option all around. Neither one would put up with it on any sort of regular basis, but both thought that it was merited.” 

“How the hell did I sleep that long?” 

“I’d say you probably started the week out overworked and sleep deprived, then spent the rest of it trying to get this whole shebang going the way you wanted it. Am I right?” 

Still too tired for much introspection, much less making excuses whether they were valid or not, Tony only shrugged and clung to his coffee like the lifeline it was. 

As it was, despite the over abundance of sleep, coffee, and the sugary pastry that was put into his other hand when Ian seemed to decide that he was awake enough to trust with something sticky, it still took Tony a good five minutes to realize that he had another problem (aside from still being too tired to do the kind of thinking he should be doing to attend a meeting): he didn’t have any clothes. 

“Ugh… 30 minutes? Damn, that won’t be nearly enough time.” He groaned looking down at his sleep wrinkled clothes. 

“Hey, don’t worry about it. We're probably close enough in size that you can wear something I have.” 

Not at all hopeful (because the only Marine he really had known for any length of time was Gibbs, who generally rocked whatever he found at Sears - possibly on sale), Tony still nodded his thanks and asked, “any chance you have a stash of clean toothbrushes for new girlfriends?” 

“Nope, can’t say that I do, that’s why I grabbed one from the px with some other supplies when I was out this morning.” 

“You are a saint among men. If we can come to an agreement, you’ve solved [my] biggest problem,” Tony answered, paraphrasing a quote from a story he’d recently read.  (From _ Jim Hawkins: The search for Flint’s Treasure_ by Roy Boobyer.)

“Oh, have no fear on that score,” Ian threw back at him, paraphrasing a quote not much further down the page to give him an appropriate response, and dropping Tony’s jaw in the process. 

“I can’t believe you recognized that.” 

“What can I say? I’m a man of untold depths. Now, muster man, muster, it doesn’t do to keep the brass waiting.” Ian threw out another familiar quote, dropping Tony's jaw before his rolling 'let's get it moving' hand gesture reminded Tony that he far from ready and the little time he had left was quickly slipping away. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ID ten T's == Id 10 ts or id10ts


	4. Chapter and Verse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit shorter than usual, but this is where my muse put her foot down.

From the second he walked into Director Morrow's office at the Department of Homeland Security's Central Headquarters, Gibbs recognized that he was going to be called to the carpet in a very direct and unpleasant manner. Director Morrow rarely pulled out all the stops, when disciplining agents, but when he did, he made certain they knew - in chapter and verse - the depth of his displeasure in fully-elaborated detail regardless of however long it took. A fact which made Gibbs' first clue of the director's displeasure all the more telling given the noticeable removal of the three visitors' chairs, which usually sat directly in front of the director's desk, to opposite corners of the office... foretelling the fact that Gibbs' would be standing for the entirety of their discussion regardless of however long it took. 

The second clue was Delores Bromstead's presence, and equally telling - especially in conjunction her presence - was the director's very intentional placement of three stacks of HR forms in what Gibbs thought of as his 'ultimatum spread'.

"I can see that I don't need to explain what's going on, so let me stop you before you misread circumstances and -- out of sheer bull-headedness -- compound the monumental number of errors you have already accumulated in the time since I left NCIS. What I am about to say has the Sec Nav's complete support, so you can forget any thought you might have that Jenny will intervene. She is in no position to do so. In any event, before this meeting ends, you will be choosing one of three options:  


    "Your first option, and -- I suspect -- the option you will likely prefer, will be to sign off on a re-submission of your retirement and medical separation forms retroactive to the Pin Pin Pula incident."

Morrow let that pronouncement hang in the air for several beats before moving his fingers from resting on the first packet facing Gibbs (slightly to his left) to the pocket sitting directly in front of the director, himself, before he continued: 

     "Your second option, while it will preserve your usefulness to the agency, is --in my opinion-- the coward's option but still viable. If you reject the other two options, there are openings on some of the two-man 'Resident' Agent teams where your recent inability to uphold and recognize a functional chain of command and much less foster productive team dynamics will be less likely to undermine long-term productivity and well-being of agency personnel."
    The current openings are in Bangor, Maine and Seattle, Washington; although, there is an opening in Jacksonville, Florida pending the retirement of the assigned senior agent, which could be held for you in deference to your years of service."

Gibbs grimaced on hearing the second option; the choice between forced retirement and being placed on one of the 'out to pasture' resident teams usually staffed by burnt out agents counting the days until their retirement… wasn't much of a choice. Sure, resident agents were still classified as active field agents but were stationed in now-minor ports where there had been a a sufficiently-long period of only minimal criminal cases (like Jacksonville) or were sufficiently distant from major offices (like Bangor) to warrant at most a minimal presence but no more than that. From what he'd seen and heard, a majority of their duties comprised processing cold cases, which while important, was not what Gibbs envisioned for the remainder of his career, and he knew that Morrow knew him well enough to know that… Meaning that his last alternative was something he was truly going to hate, and that Morrow felt that he'd screwed up badly enough that he didn't even need to offer the carrot along with the stick or sticks (plural). 

     "Your third and final option -- and the only option that will see you returning to an MCRT -- in any capacity -- rests on you completing a full medical and psychological assessment AND cooperating fully with any course of treatment recommended thereafter. Seriously, Jethro, after reviewing, the past six months of records alone, I really can’t decide, which would be the worse case scenario here: the probability of you suffering from some combination of PTSD and prolonged-profound memory loss -- or -- the the possibility that mismanagement of this agency has become so pervasive that you’ve started to believe you’re doing the job the way it should be done.” 

Bristling at the accusation that struck far too close to home for Gibbs’ liking, despite the immense respect he held for Morrow, Gibbs couldn’t hold in the almost growl of “That’s outta line” only toning it down from the bark of protest it would have been for the fact that he wasn’t entirely certain it was out of line. After all, something had prompted Tony to leave without notice, and there was no way that Gibbs believed that the confidential op was the full story. (Sure, he’d include Tony any op he’d run, but that was more because he could predict his second’s actions 80 - 90% of the time. The same wouldn’t be true for anyone else.) 

“Is it? You really think so? Well, let me tell you something, Jethro: calling the pattern of incidents I’ve found in just the past six months of reports a ‘clusterfuck’ is an understatement demeaning to all of the mundane clusterfucks that have been my displeasure to run across in the past. But, by all means, let's go over a few examples in detail ... Delores, if you would." 

Stepping away from the director's side, Bromstead handed Gibbs a rather thick file. Flipping the file's front cover open, he quickly realized the file contained quite a number of case summaries that had been marked up with highlighters and a massive number of sticky note arrows. Each arrow bore a familiar procedure number and in several cases specific passage numbers telling him they were either breaches of procedure or points where procedures should have been noted. Given the tone of the meeting, Gibbs didn't need to ask which. 

ブレンキン

Ian knew that he really shouldn't be taking so much amusement out of shepherding DiNozzo about, but, really, who could blame him? The man was a study in contrasts and extremes - vacillating between a seemingly-tireless, driven, analytical professional, who was confident and persuasive in his arguments with moments of near brilliance -- and -- an utterly-exhausted, near constantly punch-drunk-and caught up in charmingly-honest bouts of pure stream-of-conscience rambling, somewhat shy and uncertain boyish-man, who seemed inexplicably surprised others were listening to him in his more lucid moments. 

DiNozzo was such an unpredictable mix of unflinching jaded-pragmatism in his low expectations of others’ actions and sweetly generous awe or acceptance of others’ minimal efforts that Ian wasn’t certain what to expect from one moment to the next. One thing he was certain of, though, was that Director Morrow had been right in assigning Ian, with Director Cershaw’s full agreement, to shepherd DiNozzo around. The man seemed to have no concept of how to take care of himself.

After waking up to go directly into the unexpectedly planned meeting with Director Cershaw, Director Morrow, FBI Deputy Director Cruz, ATC Director Cortez, CIA Director Gage, and NSA Deputy Director Wilkinson -- only two of whom DiNozzo had any reason to anticipate attending -- DiNozzo (without any preparation time) not only soundly convinced the agency heads of the immediate need for the initiative that he had only previously sketched out with Ian (on bar napkins) and a single brief conversation with the Sec Nav, Deputy Secretary, and Director Morrow, but also provided them with (an off-the-cuff) logistical groundwork for how the initiative could be implemented and examples of how it could be seamlessly integrated into each of their agencies, which received their, unprecedented, unanimous approval and authorization. 

Not men to waste time socializing, particularly when they were at Quantico under the cover of touring a newly built addition to the technical training center, the agency heads - after giving their approval - left with Director Cershaw to tour the center and establish the stated-reason for their presence on base, leaving Ian behind (on Director Morrow’s almost-prescient suggestion) to lead the seemingly shell-shocked Agent DiNozzo back to their temporarily shared quarters before the adrenaline wore off and the man began to vocally question: “What just happened?”

“Well, off the top of my head, I’d say that you just finagled authorization to build and train a unit of covert investigative teams for the primary purpose of infiltrating domestic branches of US government agencies and bureaus to root out internal malfeasance, mismanagement, unanticipated ‘back-doors’, and vulnerabilities that leave these organizations susceptible to foreign espionage and unable to perform their duties and responsibilities effectively...to be based out of and integrated with the FLETC Academy at Quantico. With bonus points if you happen to root out any actual embedded foreign agents in the process. Why? What did you think happened?” Ian questioned blandly, thoroughly enjoying DiNozzo’s incredulous expression.

Instead of getting food sorted out, having eaten barely anything before going to the meeting, or getting more -obviously needed - rest, DiNozzo had immediately dug out a notebook, grumbled about forgetting to send Ms. Bromstead copy the last of his ‘work notes’, and started trying to recapture the logistics he had laid out earlier. 

After giving the man an hour and a half to record his impressions of twenty-eight minute meeting, Ian ambled into the kitchen to fill a plate with easily edible ‘work snacks’ and grab a water bottle which he set in DiNozzo’s easy reach. After forty-five minutes passed without either being touched, Ian finally took the initiative of sweeping the pad out from under his pen and holding it hostage.

“Edgerton, really?” DiNozzo questioned with eyes that - despite his earlier rest - were heading back into bloodshot range.

“Absolutely, you get your notes back when you turn over an empty plate and water bottle and not before.” Of course, there was a chance that DiNozzo would just empty them into a dustbin and his sink, but Ian doubted it even though the other man stared at him for several beats. Finally, though, DiNozzo held up his hands in mock surrender and started nibbling on the small bites, in between yawns. 


	5. A Few Hard Truths

“Hnhhgh,” Gibbs huffed as he grabbed his bourbon bottle down and reached for the nail jar he commonly used as a drinking glass, but aborted the move, irritation and frustration overtaking his usual self-control, as he twisted the lid off and dropped it into the cardboard box he’d kept for trash from his last purchase of upholstery fittings. He was under no illusion that he’d leave anything left in the bottle; not after the meeting with Director Morrow. 

Drinking straight from the bottle, Gibbs swallowed against the burn and sat down on the bench with an angry sigh.

In the end, he’d made the only decision he could given what had been laid out in the meeting, case after case. By the end of it, the decision was all too obvious, and he couldn’t lay the blame at DiNozzo’s door… not that he’d really wanted to; it would have just been easier if he could have convinced himself that his second…. his former second... had accepted whatever detail he was moving-on to because he was smarting and sulky from his recent and - to the self-involved agent- likely humiliating performance against Werth. Gibbs hadn’t said or really thought anything about DiNozzo or McGee’s performance because, despite the training he’d occasionally had the time to give Tim and Tony in the NCIS gym, he hadn’t really expected either man to have the same level of skills that he or Ziva brought to the fight. 

It wouldn’t have been a surprise to him, though, if either Ziva or Tim had mouthed off to Tony and struck a nerve; sometimes, they acted practically like teenagers, and Tony, far too often, seemed to struggle with just ignoring them and getting on with the job. It wouldn’t have surprised him, at all, if Tony had been smarting from something either of the probies said, and impulsively took the assignment to get some time away and lick his wounds. 

If only it had been that easy. 

DiNozzo might have taken the assignment as an out, but it wasn’t just due sour grapes and/or the need to lick his wounds from a minor loss. One of the many, many points that Morrow had brought home to Gibbs was that he had a disturbing lack of memories, post-explosion, surrounding true ramifications for Tony’s ‘bout’ with the plague. 

In all honesty, up until that morning’s meeting Gibbs had been more than content with only having a vague memory of the event, and at that, a memory that was - even to his own awareness - submerged by his own intentional avoidance of remembering, too deeply, the events surrounding Kate’s death: a memory disconnected from the true aftermath of Tony’s illness and the resulting meetings between he, Ducky, and Morrow during the weeks following the incident while Tony had been at home regaining the strength and lung capacity needed to requalify as an active field agent: meetings that he’d forgotten,,, meetings for which the sole purpose had been to discuss the ‘new trajectory’ that Tony’s responsibilities on the team would need to take in a best case situation (that Tony would recover enough from the plague to be able to return to the MRCT)... meetings to plan the best way they could go about preserving what they could of his SFA’s career against the long term effects of the permanent - and potentially degenerative - lung damage that Tony had suffered from as a result of the plague. 

While Tony had indeed, somehow managed to beat the odds and regain his status as an active field agent (despite his GP and Pulminologist’s reservations) what had occurred in the two years after had been just about as far as they could possibly be from a best case scenario.

The cautions that Ducky had warned them of and the provisions they had planned for Tony (under Gibbs presumed-supervision) had quickly fallen by the wayside after Tony’s return. 

Instead of limiting his exposure to physical injury to give his body it’s best chances of healing, within a day of his return, Tony had been reinjured by and barely escaped a car bomb, while giving Tim and Kate the chance to escape Ari’s trap. Their hopes of limiting the stress his SFA was under fell a distant second for Gibbs during his hunt for Kate’s killer, and with Morrow’s transfer to Homeland Security, it never regained the priority it should have. 

Case after case continued in the same fashion; instead of regaining his senses, and restructuring Tony’s schedule and exposure as they’d planned, Gibbs had practically gone in the reverse direction, ignoring the potential impact that being tortured on the undercover case with the assassins or locked in a container filling with the cinders and fumes of burning bills would have for Tony. That wasn’t even to mention the illegally long hours - according to Bromstead - that Gibbs had kept the team working cases (with Jenny turning a blind-eye), all the while having Tony schlepping things around in the cold or damp like he’d been a probie or more to the point, the only probie on the team. Then, there was the incident that had Tony’s facing a near-drowning, in frigid and polluted water, to save Maddie and himself, much less the incident on the Chimera… which - under the plans that he, Ducky, and Morrow had agreed on - Tony should have never been let anywhere near, but by then it had been too late, and instead of taking Tony’s concerns to heart as he should have done, Gibbs had dismissed him … as coarsely and as abruptly as he had when he’d returned from his own half-assed recovery - having no idea that while Gibbs had been getting sun and sipping cervezas down in Mexico, Tony had been pushing himself nearly to physical (and medical) exhaustion, without support, to keep the team together and their solve rates high.

Jenny’s little off-the-books fiasco hadn’t helped there either, throwing additional work and stress on Tony during what few, much needed, hours of down time he should have had - had he even been in perfect health. Not only had it added to the stress and exhaustion the was alreayd under, but the unsanctioned op also saw him not only regularly entering a hospital with waiting rooms, elevators, and corridors all abundant sources of potentially life and career - threatening (for someone with already scarred lungs) infectious bacteria and viruses, but also exposed to narcotic and effluent contaminated air of the hospital’s autopsy after a drug mule’s junky sister and her pimp forced Benoit to cut through to the man’s intestines to retrieve the drug package, which the doctor in all her brilliant desperation had decided to willfully cut open to distract junky and pimp - completely unaware of the threat the small particles posed for Tony. Those weren’t the last incidents, though they were close to the most egregious (outside of the Chimera incident). 

Morrow had, with an abundance of supporting materials, made one thing perfectly clear to Gibbs: he had broken his own first rule - to not screw his partner (over), and the worst of it was he couldn’t brush his actions and neglect off as harmless, regardless of how unintended or uncognizent they had been.

Morrow, having done what Gibbs should have been doing all along, had reached out to Dr. Pitt and Tony’s GP, so was prepared with check-up reports, x-rays, and test results proving that Gibbs neglect and interference had very likely shortened Tony’s career by a decade or more and that neither doctor had been confident that they would be signing off on Tony's next field-status check-up … a fact that, by their reports, Tony was only too aware of; and still, Tony had wanted leave on ‘good terms’.

If matters had been reversed, Gibbs knew that he would have felt justified if decking anyone who even thought about trying the same with him or... quit outright. And, in retrospect, Gibbs couldn’t blame Tony for taking the out when it was offered; while Gibbs certainly wasn’t the only one responsible for Tony’s decline, as the ‘so-called’ boss, it had been one of Gibbs most important duties to protect his own. While he may not have failed it completely, it was stunningly clear to him - in well-informed hindsight- that escaping that failure had been a very near thing, far too many times. 

He had failed the others, too- he realized now, though not as badly or as permanently (he hoped) as he had Tony. Viewed in hindsight and through the numerous complaints (presented by Bromstead) apparently filed with HR by other team leads while Tony had bitten his tongue and suffered through their insubordination and lack of cooperation without complaint, it was difficult not to see his own culpability. By ignoring and occasionally encouraging their sniping and juvenile behavior toward Tony, he had undermined their understanding of the chain of command and seriously mis-lead them to believe that their behavior had been acceptable or at least within the boundaries of what could be overlooked. What the outcome of his mismanagement on their respective careers would be, he couldn’t guess; but, it was all too clear to him, now, that despite his previous self-confidence in his dedication to the team, on the whole, he had done them no favors, and their best chances to recover the potential he’d seen in each of them lay in someone else’s hands. 

As much as his failure to them (Tim, Ziva, and Abby) plagued his conscience, it was his failure with regard to Tony that prompted his signature of the first packet Morrow had presented. Despite the visible disappointment that Morrow quickly suppressed, his abrupt and final nod told Gibbs that the director’s earlier comment had been on the honest. Regardless of what he’d wanted the outcome to be, Morrow had honestly expected Gibbs to take the retirement option, so hadn’t invested himself in planning for any other outcome. But then, he’d known Gibbs for years, and would surely understand that while Gibbs could easily recognize the argument for therapy and medical assessment, after being shown the proof of his years’ long unintended and unconscious patterns of mismanagement and neglect, there was no way in heck that he’d trust those options enough to risk his team or their careers further under his faulty management. 

Unfortunately, he hadn’t thought through how to give the Director his decision and signed the resignation/retirement package before asking for more info about Tony’s new assignment and had somehow forgotten Morrow’s tendency to take his displeasure out on those who displeased him through immediate and, usually, professionally delivered expressions of said displeasure so that he could - in his own words - walk away from the situation (or person) without feeling there was unfinished business hanging over him. As a result, Morrow had seemed to have no compunction against holding out his hand, silently requesting Gibbs badge and service weapon, and on receiving them, handed them to Bromstead, before solemnly explaining, “Mr. Gibbs, I am afraid that you no longer have anything near the authorization to know of any active investigations or operations.” Whatever he read in Gibbs’ expression was enough to soften the director’s hard-lined stance, if only minutely, and only barely enough to offer the concession: “I can say, however, that it will not be a field position… if it’s any consolation.” 

It went without saying that it was - at best - a mixed consolation, tainted with the knowledge that Tony was - at heart and soul - meant to be an active field agent. His new posting might offer the best hope of preserving his career to whatever extent it could be preserved, but there was no question in Gibbs’ mind that an uncounted number of future victims and their families would never know the level of closure that had been delivered - in the past - directly due to Tony’s investigatory skills. 

ブレンキン

Glancing briefly at his reflection as he passed through the mirrored windows of the FLETC 'compound', Tony marginally relaxed as he saw that the charcoal, rib-knit, v-neck pullover and black worsted-wool slacks that Ian lent him, though simple, had classic lines, a complementary cut, and a 'put together appearance' that was easily appropriate for an after-hours meeting even if it wasn't the 'suit and tie' professional 'look' he usually adopted. Tony envied Ian's easy confidence in being 'enough' on merit alone without feeling the need to always present the least objectionable version of himself to the tastes and whims of whomever he met - in any given circumstance.

He could have benefitted from that kind of self-certainty, well... for almost his whole life; despite the bravado and almost narcissistic image he projected, Tony had a pretty clear understanding of his strengths and weaknesses regardless of what Tim and Ziva thought. 

Still, Edgerton's easy confidence and underplayed authority did have a way of getting on Tony's nerves when the man turned them against him: first, holding his in progress notes for the next planning meeting hostage until Tony ate something, then removing the circuit breaker for the lights and hiding it before Tony had a chance to figure out that a) their quarters were the only ones to seem to lose power up and down the line and b) with the helpful clue of the air-conditioning kicking on, that their quarters hadn't lost power completely. The infuriating sniper refused to give it back before morning, and only then if Tony slept AND ate breakfast. The next day the man had 'misplaced' the cord to the - previously plugged in- coffee pot giving Tony the option of ‘getting some fresh air’ by taking a walk down to the cafe to grab a coffee, or give in to Edgerton’s offers of sports drinks and flavored waters, which Tony was almost certain had not been in the fridge the previous afternoon. 

More frustrating still, was that Edgerton seemed both unimpressed and immune to either Tony’s charm or his logic, and consistently retorted that the ‘big wigs’ didn’t expect him to have the entire program planned out in a single day. While Tony knew he was probably right, he couldn’t quite shake the feeling that at least one of the ‘powers that be’, whom he’d be meeting with, were just waiting for him to fall on his face, ready to squelch the idea before it could truly take shape. It wasn’t quite a gut feeling, precisely, but it was one that the was somehow too convinced of to ignore. 

If there was one lesson that life had taught Tony, with repeated and often painful reminders, it was that ‘things’ never went this smoothly. So, despite all of the effort he had put into ensuring that Werth’s hearing went as it should (both to give Werth a second chance - that in Tony’s opinion - the marine had more than earned and to arrange it so that Gibbs could have Tony’s replacement neatly waiting in the wings: a replacement that Tony knew he could trust to have his team’s six and whom he was certain would be afforded the trust and respect that he had somehow never managed to secure) … and the chances that Tony had taken to broach his ideas even with Morrow much less the Sec. Nav. (no matter how well they’d been received) … Tony was still waiting for the other shoe to drop. There was always another shoe to drop. 

That fact seemed to make no impression on Edgerton, though, and the marine had seemed to take Director Morrow’s implied promise that they would keep an eye out for Tony and watch his six until he got his ‘footing’ as a mission directive - pursuing the job of shepherding and mother-henning Tony as if they were the detailed tasks of a mission briefing:

**Mission Objectives**
    1) A. Consumption Requirements: subheading 3\. a. _ Caloric Intake_  

     Ensure target [DiNozzo] consumes in excess of 2,235 calories in each twenty-four hour period.
  
    1) A. Consumption Requirements: subheading 4\. Hydration 
    Ensure target consumes sufficient quantities of hydration and electrolytically-balanced liquids.
  
    2) C. Physical Activity 
    Promote sufficient physical transit through approved open terrain and open air activities.
  
     5) A. TST, TIB, REM, and NREM standards 
     Ensure that target conforms to recommended TST [Total Sleep Time], REM [Rapid Eye Movement], NREM {Non-Rapid Eye Movement] standards, not to be confused with TIB [Time in Bed] standards.
  


”Ready to go?” Edgerton questioned from the doorway, Tony’s folio in one hand, and a coffee that even at the distance smelled of cinnamon, hazelnut, clove, and cream… adding one more item to Tony’s amused list of ‘Mission Objectives’. 

    14\. A. Administrative Meetings:  

     Facilitate target’s preparation and attendance of planning meetings in good order. 
  


  


ブレンキン

“Well?” Director Tom Morrow asked, with smug amusement, watching Deputy Secretary Joshua Fielding quietly as he flipped through the packets that Agent Edgerton was handing out to the other Agency Directors and Deputy Secretaries, in preparation for DiNozzo’s presentation. 

“This is… very thorough.” Joshua answered, flipping through the very detailed project proposal, noting details that essentially proved that it was a fresh proposal that could have only been begun after receiving the Secretary Davenport’s approval. “Very.” 

“The job the way it’s meant to be done?” Morrow questioned in an almost teasing tone... But Joshua could only concede to the point.

While Agent DiNozzo’s idea had been sound even at its first appraisal and would fill a very necessary gap in the major agencies and their respective organizations, Joshua had only expected to hear the barest bones of a proposal… given that it had been only four days since the meeting with Director Shepard to initiate the Agent DiNozzo’s transfer, and it had been very clear to them all that DiNozzo was in need of a significant amount of sleep and time to rebound. Despite that he packet had just been laid in front of him was, for lack of a better word, impressive.

Agent DiNozzo had taken into account and outlined the program’s infrastructure, security protocols, and the program's projected needs down to projected per operation labor, equipment, and average travel expenses. The only items that Joshua could see that Agent DiNozzo had left out were his and Edgerton’s salaries, as well as the salaries for the as-yet-unappointed director and assistant director and two ‘permanent consultants’ that he wished to include in the program both as trainers and as administrative and recruiting staff; although, even there he had been relatively thorough, noting salary ranges for based on the tentatively discussed security levels when he'd first presented the idea. 

“Well, there is a reason that I’ve been trying to hire him away from NCIS before FBI could scoop him up." Morrow answered with a near grin before continuing, wryly: "His detractors seem to either underestimate him and overlook him for his charm and looks and masks or to alternately assume that his skills are limited to undercover and traditional investigative techniques. His knowledge of inter-organization operations and the connections he’s made through networking have undoubtedly helped him fill the few gaps that his years filling out Gibbs paperwork and his stints with different PDs and task-forces didn’t provide for; with that said, though, he’s also demonstrated a rather keen eye for logistics on more than one occasion, and I’m not at all surprised to see him put together a proposal like this.” 

“Speaking of Gibbs, I hear the two of you had a meeting?” 

At Morrow’s intense frown, Joshua nodded. Honestly, he had expected as much from Morrow’s side comment after DiNozzo had left the initial meeting with Secretary Davenport, but it was interesting that Director Shepard had decided to sit on the matter and not inform them of Gibbs’ resignation. 

As DiNozzo finished opening the computer and power-point presentation, they wrapped up their quiet conversation and gave the agent their attention. 

“Thank you, Sirs. Now, given that you have had the proposal for several minutes, are there any questions that you would like addressed before I start the presentation?” Agent DiNozzo asked with seeming confidence that the deputy secretary would have believed if he hadn’t been closely observing DiNozzo during their recent meetings and seen enough of the the man in a state of utter exhaustion to have picked up a few of Agent DiNozzo's well-suppressed tells. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before any Gibbs lovers get upset, I promise this won't be the last you see of him. In my opinion, he's just as much of a trouble magnet as Tony has been frequently portrayed. 
> 
> And, if you remember canon, there's a threat looming on the horizon for both Gibbs and Jenny.


	6. Part Two of Part One

“Okay, Tony. While the invitation to lunch is appreciated, even in the base cafeteria, we both know that it wasn’t needed; and, even if it were, I would hope that your understanding of reciprocity would be somewhat more discerning than this. I’m going to presume that you need something else from me and decided that you needed to do more buttering up than just a simple phone call?” Delores questioned with somewhat arch amusement. While she was foolishly fond of the man, in a completely platonic way, Delores wanted to get whatever favor he was going to request out of the way so they could settle down and enjoy lunch - such as it was. 

“Well, it’s not a favor per se, but more of an opportunity that I hope you’ll accept. I wanted to discuss it with you first, before I put in the formal request, though, and see if it’s something you might want.” 

~~~ Well, that’s unexpected. ~~~ 

In all honesty, Delores hadn’t put much stock in Tony’s promise to “have her six” even though she was well aware that Tony was prone to ‘old-fashioned’ networking (aka collecting and honoring favors). In her experience, that kind of give and take was quickly forgotten by agent-types, who assumed that secretaries, hr specialists, and even evidence techs going out of their way to assist them was just ‘doing their job’ regardless of how far out of the scope of their jobs the assistance was and rarely saw it as a favor worth remembering much less honoring. That was not to say - in any manner- that she had been motivated to help Tony by the prospect of the agent owing her a favor somewhere down the line. 

No, her primary motivation to help Tony had been two-fold: first, had been down the sheer fact that Tony demonstrably viewed her as more than just a ‘paper-pusher’ and ‘bean-counter’, as was clear from his choice to consult her in trying to firm-up Corporal Werth’s case; and second, through her role at NCIS, Delores commonly read reports about every aspect affecting the employment of every single employee of the agency from their regular background checks to their expense and reimbursement reports (and their medical reports, security records, technology usage, firearm discharge statistics, case closure statistics, and vacation/leave times). As a result, Delores had gained a very different impression of Agent DiNozzo than he commonly preferred to project, and Delores -as a rule- trusted the data that could be documented and quantified over shallow personal impressions. 

The impressions of Agent DiNozzo that had come across her desk, report after report, depicted an honest and dedicated agent, who acknowledged his own faults and credited others for their work regardless of their role or status in the agency. His expense reports were immaculate - never even charging off meals and conveniences that were customarily permitted while traveling for casework or to represent the agency. DiNozzo regularly showed up in security logs returning well after his team were dismissed to work on active or cold cases, confirmation of which were always confirmed by reviewing computer logs (a customary check made by agencies to ensure that agents working with classified information were not inappropriately utilizing their access for their own gain). His on-the-job injury rate and subsequent leave reports were nearly converse of each other: DiNozzo’s record of case-related injuries outstripping nearly all of the agency, while he took nearly the least amount of medical leave (second only to herself) and the least leave overall. Even the rumors of his presumably philandering ways met their counter in the reports crossing her desk for it had not gone unnoticed very long, by her, that the gossip of his latest and most outrageous ‘one night stands’ always seemed to correspond to the nights he was reported in the security logs for having to come back to do case work - often to the early hours of the morning. In short, the agent Delores had come to know was a man she could and did respect, even before he began asking for her advice and opinions. 

If the fact that he’d remembered his promise to support her should she ever need was a surprise, then it was nothing compared to the packet he pushed in front of her. 

After reading through it the first time, Delores immediately grasped the ‘opportunity’ he was offering, even if she wasn’t entirely certain that she could believe it. Lifting her gaze to study his expression, Delores quickly read from the way his lips pressed pensively together - as if he was trying to keep from blurting something out, probably to convince her to take the offer - and the completely hopeful and attentive glimmer of his eyes, that he was utterly serious about wanting her to fill the role described in the project summary. Nevertheless, not inclined to taking things at face value, Delores couldn’t help but ask for clarification. 

“Am I to understand that you are asking me to take up the Assistant Director’s position?” The incredulous tone that had slipped into her question surprised even Dolores, who’d always been confident in her ability to maintain her emotions. 

“You can’t tell me that you don’t understand the inner workings of NCIS, and most of our sister agencies, better than half of the directors out there, and certainly better the current director. I know you can do the job… if it’s something you’d want?” 

“Tony… I…” She had no idea what to say. This wasn’t something she’d ever expected. In her experience, administrative specialists- usually excluded from in-field experience - were rarely even considered for upper administration and usually only made their way into it by virtue of being ‘brought over’ as the personal staff of a Director or Assistant Director accepting a promotion - like a piece of luggage or favorite bit of furniture. The thought of being offered a position - based on her own merits - by someone, whom if she was reading the project correctly would ultimately be her subordinate … was unprecedented. 

The pensive press of his lips returned for a second as he clearly tried to give her time to think through her answer, but before she could quite get her mind around the concept, his … hopefulness …(she thought) got the better of him, and he blurted out, “If my confidence in you isn’t enough, I did pass it by Director Morrow…just to make sure it was something that I could offer before… you know… possibly getting your hopes up. He said he couldn’t think of a better choice. You can do this. The question is if you want to.” 

~~~ No, that’s not the question; although, there’s no way for him to know it. ~~~ Delores thought, her natural tendency toward holding an impassive expression falling by the wayside in the face of his earnestness. 

“No, Tony, I think the question is how soon can I start?” 

“Really?!?” He practically yelped, inexplicably surprised. “I know it's taking a big chance, and I can’t guarantee that … well, I can’t guarantee anything, so I don’t want you to feel like you have to … you know … risk your job security and pension and everything, if you’re not sure.” 

And anyone who ever attempted to convince her, again, that Tony was egotistical would have the dubious pleasure of Delores laughing in his or her face - even if it meant publicly mocking the individual. Far too many rumors had been far too off-base about this man, and Delores thought it was well past time that he stopped believing them. 

“It's the possibility that keeps me going, not the guarantee.” Delores offered with a smile. 

“Did you just ‘Notebook’ me?” Tony asked, his eyes charmingly wide. 

“A classic is a classic.” Delores demurred. 

“My Dear, Ms. Bromstead, I do believe this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship,” he answered with a smile, seemingly unknowingly quoting her favorite movie. 

“Oh, Tony, If you think this is the start, you haven’t been paying attention.” Delores teased, surprised with how easy it was to let down her ‘professional mask’ with Tony. 

“Oh, I always pay attention, but never assume that others are applying the same interpretation as I am.” He answered, softly, and with a solemnity and wistfulness that somehow made her feel unaccountably sad about his answer. 

ブレンキン

The familiar cadence of heavy bootsteps carrying down the stairwell alerted Gibbs to Abby’s arrival well before the almost-whispers of conversation with Damon directed her downstairs. Damon must have been headed out to the VA again for one of the sessions because the door closed almost immediately after their brief conversation; although, it seemed a bit earlier than his normal meeting schedule. 

“I asked Mr. Oorah to give us some space,” Abby explained Damon’s abrupt departure - her clear change in attitude toward the corporal indicating whom she had decided to blame the changes that were likely just announced at headquarters (as it was still a good four to five hours early for her to be getting off work even on the days they weren’t looking at an active case). When he’d briefly thought about it the night before (before he’d started in on emptying the bourbon bottle), he hadn’t been able to decide whom she was more likely to blame between Jenny, Morrow, or Tony. Damon hadn’t even come into the picture, and he wasn’t entirely certain how she’d gotten there. The one thing he’d been certain of, and appeared to be proven right about given her tone and the very distinct attitude change from how she’d previously treated the corporal, was that the last person she’d think of blaming (outside of herself) would be him - regardless of how much could be laid at his feet. While, under other circumstances, her blind loyalty would have probably reinforced his belief in the trust he’d instilled in his team… now though, whether due to his hangover, her attitude, or the guilt he hadn’t managed to drink his way out of, it rankled. Whatever trust he’d earned from them, he should have lost, and they should have been the type of agents to know that even Abby and Ducky. Hell, Ducky had been in the damn meetings with Gibbs and Morrow and nothing had happened to his memory. 

“Wasn’t your place to do.” He scolded, not willing to cut her the slack or coddle her - now that he’d seen the results of it spewed across so many reports and complaints. There was no damn reason that Tony and the other SFAs and team leads should have been downplaying the importance of her results in their reports to limit the impact on their cases if her lab ever failed inspection. He and Jenny had done that: each sheltering her in their own ways and for their own reasons or more to the point - past reason, and it had done her no favors as was clearly implied in the fact that she seemed to have no compunction in not only dropping by without notice or permission but giving his guest the cold shoulder and an order to get lost without even flying it by him. 

“We need to talk and don’t need Oorah here getting in the way. I don’t even know how he’s managed…” 

“Stop calling him Oorah!” he barked. 

“No. We need to fix this. You’ve got to fix this. I don’t know how he got to both of you or what he said to…” 

The nail jar shattering on the opposite wall got through to her better than anything he could have said, even though she was staring at him with wide shocked eyes. 

“G-G-ibbs?!?” It came out in a whimper that did nothing for his nerves. 

“Get this through your head, or get out! Corporal Werth has nothing to do with my retirement or Tony’s transfer, and if you ever get it into your head to tell someone I’ve given permission to be here, which doesn’t include you at the moment, that they need to leave - you’d better be leaving with them.” 

“GIBBS! That’s not fair.” She retorted, her voice raising in the kind of tantrum that Kelly had even known better than to try with him. “And, I know he’s had something to do with this. It all started when... 

“Fair?!?” He barked, cutting her off, incredulously, “What the hell does fair have to do with anything? You’re a forensic analyst in a Federal Agency, at least you’re supposed to be. You wouldn’t have a job if the world were fair. There wouldn’t be a need for what you do if it was. Where did you get the delusion that we had any reason to expect fairness when it doesn’t apply to the people we work for and with? Was what happened to Gerald fair? Or Pacci? Or Kate? Was it fair for Tony to be infected with the plague because a girl couldn’t own up to sex games with her boyfriend? Was it fair that Tim and Ziva threw a tantrum when I went to Mexico and stopped doing the jobs they’d supposedly been trained to do? Was it fair that no one - not even me- gave Tony credit for the job he’d done keeping up our solve rate when the team was a man down and barely staffed by the other two? Was it fair that when I came back Jenny just let me take back my spot, without following proper procedures, much less giving Tony a shot at his own team? Because, Rota wasn't the only lead position available - just the only one she offered him and about the only one he'd have had to give up everything he'd built up stateside to take on. Was it fair that I gave him the boot from the team lead’s desk - that he’d more than earned his position at - with barely as much courtesy as you just showed Corporal Werth (a person who’s done nothing to earn your ire, any more than Tony had earned mine)? Tell me, Abby, just where does fair fit into any of that?” 

“So, it is about him!” Abby growled - out of all of that - taking only the fact that he’d focused several of his questions on Tony as an indicator that Tony factored more into his decision than anything relating to Damon. “I knew it. I knew if it wasn’t about Oorah, then it was because of Tony that the team’s falling apart. You have to stop him, Gibbs. You have to make it so he can’t leave, and then you can come back, and things will blow over, and you can get Tim and Ziva out of trouble because of…” 

“Abby, are you even listening to yourself? Analyst or not, you are a federal agent. You should know by now how things work. Teams change. Good Agents get reassigned. Subpar agents deal with the consequences of their actions and poor decisions. Agents retire when it’s time… or past time.” 

“But if it wasn’t for Tony, you wouldn’t be quitting!” 

“Nope, I wouldn’t.” Gibbs agreed, dismissing the momentary glimmer of triumph in her expression, as he continued. “Maddie and I would have died at the bottom of the Anacostia by the time Tim, Ziva, or any of the other teams had figured out where to find us and acted on it. There would have been a memorial, and life would go on. So you’re right: if it weren’t for Tony, I wouldn’t be quitting. If it weren’t for Tony, I wouldn’t be here to quit… and, by the way, retiring isn’t quitting; it’s recognizing that you’re not able to do the job the way it should be done and stepping aside before your inability further jeopardizes the lives and careers of the people you work with and serve.” 

“But, Gibbs…” She whined, going teary-eyed, probably from her inability to come up with anything to answer his points more than any concession to them. 

“Sit down, Abby. We need to talk.” he sighed. This really should have fallen on Jenny’s shoulders, or possibly her replacement if things went the way he suspected; but, the chances that Abby would really listen to anyone but him… weren’t encouraging. 

ブレンキン

A different rhythm of boot steps hesitantly announced Damon’s return. Unlike his usual entrance, the young man paused a half-dozen steps from the top of the stairs - likely debating his welcome though whether in Gibbs’ house or his basement, Gibbs couldn’t be sure. His answer was the same, though. 

“Come on down.” 

The corporal, ever the good marine, obeyed orders, but the man’s stiff posture and ‘at attention’ bearing was a familiar tell to Gibbs, who suppressed a sigh even while rolling his eyes before the corporal could see his face clearly. 

“I wasn’t sure if you’d want more time… A- Ms. Scuito looked pretty upset when she left.” Werth went to explain himself even though it shouldn’t have been needed. 

“She needed to hear a few home truths that she didn’t want to hear.” Gibbs answered honestly. 

The admission didn’t seem to make any appreciable difference in the corporal’s posture though. 

“Okay, spit it out.” Gibbs ordered. 

“Since I haven’t been formally court-martialed, and the transfer hasn’t and won’t come through until I’ve completed _treatment_ (the word was murmured with a tone of rueful distaste that Gibbs could thoroughly understand no matter how much he agreed with the necessity of it - in Werth’s case), I’m pretty certain that I can still stay on base…” Werth immediately trailed off when Gibbs raised his hand. 

“One of the truths Abby needed to hear was that she was out of line in more ways than one. She didn’t have any right to ask you to leave or to imply that I’d want that. If I’d wanted that, I’d have said it. If and when I want you out, I’ll tell you; till then, the spare bedroom’s yours.” 

“Yes, Sir,” and it was a wonder the corporal didn’t salute. 

“So if that’s cleared up, anything else that we need to talk about?” 

“No, Sir.” Werth agreed, not realizing that Gibbs could read him about as easily as he could Tim. 

“What is it?” 

“Nothing, Sir.” 

Unfortunately, Gibbs felt too close to sober to start on another bottle again, but too hung over to deal with dragging the truth out of the younger marine if he was truly determined, and something of it must have shown in his expression because whatever he saw had Werth backtracking on his demurral. 

”Just something that DiNozzo said has been sticking in my mind, and I haven’t been able to figure it out.” 

Thinking back over the past few days and the very few times that the two men were together, Gibbs tried to remember anything that DiNozzo might have said, and came up empty. 

“When was this?” 

“I wasn’t supposed to discuss it, but as it was mentioned during the hearing, I guess you’re already aware of it… When DiNozzo came by to get my signatures for the ‘disposition agreement’, I’d already heard from one of my buddies, who was checking with me about a call he’d gotten from DiNozzo asking him to be a character witness. So, I already knew that he was working behind the scenes on getting the deal for me, and you didn’t seem to know why he was there, so I … well, it doesn’t matter what I thought. Anyway, I just wanted to know why he was helping when it was pretty clear that it wasn’t under your orders, and he had a dislocated shoulder because of me and no reason to like me. I just wanted to make sense of it?” 

Well, Gibbs couldn’t argue that. He would have been suspicious of DiNozzo’s motives, in Werth’s place. 

“What was his answer?” Gibbs asked, not entirely certain he wanted to know. 

“That’s what I can’t understand. He just said, “rule five” and left it at that, but I can’t think of any rule ‘five’ that makes sense.” 

~~~Well, maybe it’s not too late to dig out another bottle.~~~ Gibbs thought dryly before he got hold of himself and shook off the thought with a grimace that Werth, of course, seemed to misread visibly shutting down as he started to speak - undoubtedly to retract his question. 

”No, no, it’s fine.” Gibbs nodded his head toward the top of the stair. “It’s just a long story; let’s go up, grab some beer and put on a couple of steaks; I can explain it while the steaks cook. “ 

Werth’s expression wasn’t entirely convinced, but lacking anything else he could do, Werth turned and went up the stairs, seemingly taking Gibbs up on his offer. 

As soon as he turned away, Gibbs let his own stoic expression drop with a softly whispered complaint of, “Aww Christ, DiNozzo!” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Despite generally loving both Abby and Gibbs, after reading a number of Tony!leaves fics, where Tony's left with the task of dealing with a semi-immature/petulant Abby, I felt it was Gibbs' turn to deal with the emoting goth. 
> 
> Till next time,  
Brenn


	7. Coming Home to Roost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so it was, in Camelot, that after the Great King fell,  
Many a shameful whisper could be heard to tell,
> 
> “T’would not have happened - did HE yet reign,”  
They claimed of their woes - an all-knowing, ill-remembering refrain,
> 
> For they - the bitter- forgot the many ills which had occurred,  
Under that Great and Cruel King - his memory now obscured,
> 
> In his subject’s willful blindness,  
Preferring their illusions in name of kindness,
> 
> They faulted, instead, their New King - though faultless he be,  
For the great and dire consequence of that sad history.  
_(The Camelot that Never Was)_
> 
> ブレンキン

ブレンキン

“It should go without saying, Agent McGee, that you are on very thin ice, here. Were it not for both Agent DiNozzo and Agent Gibbs confirmations that they did not follow up instances of significant under-performance and blatant insubordination with appropriate mentorship and evaluation, you would have been summarily dismissed from your position. Their culpability in your poor performance is the only reason that you are instead being placed on a ninety-day probation, at the appropriately-decreased salary commensurate with your experience and performance up to the Director’s unprecedented promotion.” Cameron Hudson, the HR representative, whom Tim had been ordered to meet with right after finding out that Gibbs had quit, snidely explained. 

Already reeling from the announcement of Gibbs’s retirement, Tim had been floored to discover that he was being called in to review his work record due to an insane number of complaints that had been filed with Human Resources. He could hardly believe that anyone had filed a complaint against him, but had assumed that it had been a parting shot from Tony. 

It had been a shock to find out that Tony had been about the only team-lead or SFA, who hadn’t filed a complaint against him for one grouse or another, but he should have realized the possibility that Tony wasn't the only one who’d feel threatened or jealous of his quick rise through the ranks. 

If they’d had the talent with computers or intelligence, that Jenny had clearly recognized in him, there wouldn’t have been any reason for them to feel threatened and complain. Why the HR wonks seemed to want to take the complainers’ sides, he had no idea; they had never had any complaint with his work before Gibbs left (or had been to afraid of Gibbs to bother him with their petty complaints) and, now without Gibbs to keep them in line, were nit-picking over every time sheet, security report, work log, and case report submitted by or for him - asking him to explain in detail even the smallest infraction.

After three days of meetings, they'd apparently decided that they had enough to force him into a performance improvement plan, put him on probation, and who knows what else - all because some of the other’s had gotten jealous because he’d been promoted more quickly than them. At least, that’s what he’d assumed to be their motivation based on how many times Hudson liked to bring up the promotion. 

“Commensurate? Really?!?” Tim snarked, “Like Tony had commensurate experience that counted for anything?” 

“While Agent DiNozzo’s work record has little to do with your own, he anticipated the question being raised, and gave us permission to clarify certain details you appear to be in confusion about. With regard to the experience commensurate with his rank and standing, Agent DiNozzo spent five of his seven years in non-federal law enforcement agencies at the rank of detective, was engaged in two long-term undercover assignments and seven undercover assignments of varying length. During his tenure at NCIS, he served undercover for an additional eleven times, again of varying lengths. Based on his previous experience, he was eligible for promotion to Senior Field Agent a year after joining NCIS, however, was not promoted until Agent Todd joined the MRCT. At the time of her death, Agent DiNozzo was eligible for promotion to a team lead and had been offered a lead position by Director Morrow but turned it down for understandable reasons. Does that clarify matters for you?" Hudson finished almost snidely. 

While Tim knew Tony had been a detective and had gone undercover at least once with the Macalusos, he'd never really considered how much experience that had added up to, and the thought that Tony could have been on the same level with Gibbs back before Ziva had even joined the team just didn't seem possible. It still didn't answer one question: "I assume his work experience was used to justify waving the academic requirements." Tim huffed, not entirely willing to admit that Tony might have been legitimately his superior. 

"No." Hudson disagreed. 

"But senior field agents are listed as grade 12 and grade 13 on the salary schedules as entry levels requiring graduàte degrees." 

"Yes." 

"That doesn't make sense. How could he have qualified for SFA his first year with just a Phys Ed degree?" 

"While, again, it is not of particular relevance to your circumstances, Agent DiNozzo did give us permission to release the information to you regarding his accreditation - as he believed that it would assist in clarifying your misconceptions. To that end, while a Sports Medicine degree is hardly a Phys Ed degree, it is not his only degree. Agent DiNozzo prior to his employment with NCIS had completed the remaining requirements to satisfy a further Bachelor's Degree in Psychology. Following the undercover assignment in Philadelphia, Agent DiNozzo began a Master's degree in Criminology, with a minor in Criminal-Profiling that he completed during his first year with NCIS - just short of the finish of his first year of employment, which had been at that time the only matter holding him back from the Senior Field Agent rank - on entry. In the years since, he has added In-field Emergency-Medic training, Language Fluency certifications for Spanish, French, and Mandarin, has passed the level five Japanese Language Proficiency Test, as well as the Equivalent of the Foreign Service level-two exam for Hebrew. Now, if we can get back to the actual focus of this meeting...’ Hudson’s sigh and eye-roll irked Tim and he would have complained over the man’s not only juvenile and insulting but unprofessional behavior, as well, if he weren’t caught up in trying to figure out how Tony had managed to convince some HR newbie of his qualifications. He didn’t think that the former SFA had paid someone to take the tests for him, but he wouldn’t put it entirely past Tony, either. The man did like to brag. Or maybe he’d convinced one of the newbies to be in on a practical joke when he finally decided to use them… or someone at a testing center, but that In-field Emergency Medic training was only authorized through joint training at FLETC and Bethesda, and definitely not something to joke about.

Glaring at him, rudely, Hudson cleared his throat loudly and started up again, ‘During the ninety-day probation period, you will be reporting directly to Philip Yeavers, the Senior Field Agent of MCRT Four, whose bullpen is located in the vestibule. By the finish of this meeting, your computers and personal belongings should be moved to an open desk that has been made available for….” Tim immediately wanted to protest that regardless of a few ‘unfiled reports’ that Tony had picked up the slack on when Tim had other engagements that took precedence over paperwork, he hadn’t done anything to deserve being booted off the team - when it struck him: with Gibbs retiring and Tony reassigned to whatever crap assignment someone needed a flunky for, that just left him and Ziva… and whatever was going on in her interviews - notwithstanding - Tim didn’t need anyone to explain to him that her position as a liaison wouldn’t really work without a team to liaise with. 

ブレンキン

“Once again, Ms. David, I will remind you that you are not a US citizen, and therefore, not entitled to legal much less JAG or agency representation, nor are you a formal employee of NCIS. You are… or rather… you were a consultant employed through a foreign service agency as an attache and liaison - a consultant; the consultancy contracts that you signed - and attested to understanding - stated this very clearly, as the provided copies verify. If you will note, in the second through fourth paragraphs of the first page, NCIS additionally enumerated the heavy penalties that you are subject to under this agreement in the event your performance breeches it through malfeasance or espionage, each of which have been subsequently proven to the satisfaction of a federal tribunal duly appointed to review matters of a sensitive or confidential nature.” 

“What tribunal? I was not given a trial.” Ziva protested, slamming her hand down on the table, growing more frustrated when his only reaction was a raised eyebrow. 

“If you will read the third sentence of the second line, starting with the words “If suspected of…” you will note that neither your attendance nor forewarning of an espionage investigation into your activities during your employment or thereafter is required. Nor were we required to disclose the results of any investigation attendant to these charges, especially where evidence of the charges is found to be substantiated: as was recorded and demonstrated both through key-stroke logging software and audio-visual records cross-referenced to every terminal that you have accessed on site and elsewhere... The acknowledgement of which you signed your understanding of on the signature line separating the second and third paragraphs - prior to being placed with NCIS.”

“My father is the Director of the Mossad. I demand to speak with him instantly. He will not stand for this.” Ziva threatened, assuming the man, probably a chauvinist, would think she had no connections of any import. 

“Ah yes, as to your father, while -given the charges against you - you would not have been permitted to speak with anyone outside of legal counsel - were you a citizen and entitled to such - as your father is the Director of the very agency employing you during the period in which you committed espionage, you will not as a matter of procedure be permitted to communicate with him until your sentence has been served and you are deported back to Israel.” 

“My sentence!?! How dare you? You will not get away with this. My father …” 

“Has already washed his hands of the matter.” The officer, who had refused to give her his name on entering (she would find out though and ensure him a great deal of regret when she did) continued, pulling out a digital recorder, which he set on the table between them starting it even as it touched the table top. 

“Ziva,” her father’s voice was ripe with disappointment, “my בת, after Ari, I expected better of you; you will accept your penance for your indiscretions, and in time, will return home to atone for the shame you have brought to Mossad, your country, and myself. Choose wisely in how you serve in the interim and remember that you were raised with a great legacy, which you are expected to live up to. Do so, my בת and return to your home.” 

“אב, no.” Ziva cried out to him in her shock before regaining her composure. There was no question in her mind that it had been her father. She had learned the key words and word orders that he would use in speaking and writing to her before she, herself, could even write, and had no doubt, having heard them, that it was a true message. Distressing, though, had been his lack of any communicated code. There was no underlying message for her to discern. 

His true message, his true orders to her were exactly as they had been stated. She was to do penance for the indiscretion of being caught, and after whatever penance the American’s levied, she would return home to prove herself worthy of being acknowledged once more his daughter and as Mossad… as Ari had failed to do in his attempts to remove Gibbs from NCIS, the first and second time they met. Although she could not deny her fondness for the MCRT’s now-retired senior agent, if Ari had succeeded in the morgue or with the bomb in the cafe, her brother would not have lost their father’s faith and marked himself to be sacrificed in order to place Ziva into a liaison position, which should have been his on the FBI task force instead of NCIS. 

Looking up into the American agent’s eyes, instead of the smug arrogance she had expected to see, Ziva saw unwanted sympathy and stiffened proudly. Disgraced or not, she was still Mossad. Ignoring the shaking in her left hand, the hand that had loaded the bullets into the clip and gun that ended her brother’s life, Ziva took the pen the agent offered, careful not to touch his hand as she did, and signed the plea agreement, not bothering to read the details. She was Mossad and would follow orders. 

“As you did not elect to read the agreement,” the officer chastised with a tone that was still too soft for her liking, “I feel you should be aware that it specifies that you will be taken from here to Guantanamo Bay where you will be put into solitary confinement for your own protection, in light of the other detainee's political leanings, while the Department of Defense further investigates both the scope of the espionage that you committed and the subsequent impact of those details being released. If it is determined that any service member or any agency member has been grievously injured or killed as a result of your actions, these charges will be treated as separate and independent charges and depending on their severity, may not be applicable to concurrent sentences. Until such a time as that investigation has been completed, your sentence is to be assumed to be indefinite until the cumulative lapse of actionability of each of the documented classified exchanges. Do you understand what I am saying?” 

Ziva glared at the man; she was not stupid. They would not release her while any secrets she may hold could be of use to Mossad. 

“Ms. David, whether you answer or not, you have signed the plea agreement. I simply wish to be sure that you have no other questions, while you still have the opportunity to ask them.” 

Not wanting to linger any further in his unwanted pity, Ziva nodded sharply and looked away, standing when he gestured the guards over to escort her out of the interrogation room. 

As they left the interrogation room, Michelle Lee, who'd been passing at that moment, was forced to step to the side to give room for the guards and Ziva to pass. In the few seconds it took them to pass, Ziva noticed Lee’s complexion go almost pallid as she noticed the handcuffs the guards had secured before letting Ziva step out. Her dark eyes went wide with shock and concern that Ziva found almost offensive. Even with divided loyalties, Ziva had still served NCIS more effectively and professionally than that milk-bread, who’d been no better than a secretary and whom should never have been put on the same team with her, which had been an insult in itself - even with Tony as their useless team lead. 

Despite her antipathy for him, Ziva was still relieved when the unnamed agent cleared his throat loudly cutting the pathetic woman off before she could mutter more than a warbling, “Ziva?” 

ブレンキン

Given that his responsibilities of the last two and a quarter week’s had revolved around shepherding a constantly-preoccupied DiNozzo to and from meetings, back and forth from the mess hall that Quantico over-optimistically described as a full-service cafeteria, which only seemed to mean that the food was marginally more recognizable as such, rather than more edible (He couldn’t discount that he’d been a bit spoiled in the rangers; camp cooks had always been a little more motivated to maintain food quality when unnamed snipers used their potato crates and gravy vats for target practice, sometimes while they were in use)... Ian had not been expecting his proverbial gut to start blaring alarms as his charge seemed to be wrapping up the phone call that had interrupted DiNozzo’s latest five-hour-without-a-break spate of program planning before Ian had been forced to do it. 

“No, there’s not much I can do, either, Probette, but I appreciate you’re trying to watch their sixes. That said; while it was a good instinct, you really shouldn’t have made this call. I know and I appreciate that. In other circumstances, it would have been okay, but as it stands, it sounds like the Probie’s just dealing with a much earned slap on the wrist, and if he keeps his head down and listens to Phil, he might even have come out the better for it.’ 

Whether it was the tone of Tony’s voice, the shift in Tony’s posture that gave the man the appearance of just having been struck, or his almost emotionless, shuttered-expression that had the most impact, Ian couldn't say; but whatever the cause, his instinct’s were on red alert, and because of that, although he’d probably need to apologize to Tony later for it, Ian intentionally started to listen in on their conversation. 

“...on't get yourself drug into the mess she’s made for herself. At any time, right from the start, she could have come to Gibbs, Jenny, or even myself, and we could have helped to some extent - if not out get her from under her father's thumb entirely, then at least help her limit the consequences. For whatever reason, she chose not to and now has to deal with the hand she's dealt herself.' 

'Take a lesson from it, Probette, setting aside all matters of right and wrong, loyalty, duty, and trust, which Ziva's upbringing has given her very skewed and narrow definitions for; no matter how good you are nor how good your training is, something like that will always go south. Just from working on the team, she should have seen all of the ways available that could be used to track her activities and monitor her, and she should have known better. Setting aside everything else, she was a fool to think that just because her daddy’s high-up in an allied-government, she wouldn’t be watched from the start; we don’t take anymore kindly to our friends stealing our secrets than we take our enemies doing it, and heck we don’t even like trust our own folks with the good silver if we can avoid it. … What? Nevermind; if I have to explain the analogy, it’s just better to move on to the next topic.' 

'Anyway, the point is this, Probette, if there’s one thing to remember about working at NCIS, it’s that someone’s always watching, and they should be; the kind of information we come across on a daily basis gets people killed if it gets into the wrong hands, and we have to understand that and act accordingly. Everything we do and have done in NCIS is monitored, recorded, cross-checked, filmed, and archived from the day we start until the day we retire whether we are good agents or the worst of the worst. If you do your job the way it’s supposed to be done, you might be called to answer a couple of questions once in a while because irregularities do happen on occasion, and then you get back to work; if you do what she’s done, well you'll be doing a lot more than just answering questions and there's no coming back from it. Anyway, listen, I need to... Yeah, you too. Talk to you later.” 

Without bothering to turn or make certain that he had Ian’s attention, Tony remarked, “Listen, I know Morrow or Cresshaw, or both, have you on baby-sitting duty, but I need to get some air and would appreciate some space while I’m at it. Okay?” 

He didn’t bother to wait for the affirmative, which Ian would have given despite the warnings his gut was giving off, but Tony didn’t wait to hear it, promising instead, “I’ll stay on the grounds” as he walked out the door. 

Given what the conversation seemed to be about, Ian didn’t blame the guy. He would have wanted some space, too, if any of his old teammates had gotten in the kind of trouble it sounded like Agent… well, former Agent David … had gotten into. Even when there’s nothing you could have done to stop them from making bone-headed mistakes, it could feel like a punch in the gut to learn that someone you'd trusted at your back and had trusted you to have their back in return did something so far off regs that there was no good outcome on the horizon. 

It didn’t occur to Ian until about two hours later, when the evening damp had settled in enough that he felt the need to shut the windows and turn on the heater to dispel the chill before Tony returned, that Tony had gone out without stopping to put on any sort of jacket. While he didn’t know the extent of Tony’s health issues (though he was pretty sure Tony had some from the way he sometimes seemed to be trying to rub away an ache in his chest and the amount of time it usually took Tony to catch his breath again after their runs), between the way the younger man was pushing himself to get the project going and whatever health issues he had, Ian had a sinking feeling that two plus hours out in the DC evening chill was the last thing he needed - outside of bad news about his former team. 

When his temporary roommate/charge did return another hour and a half later, Ian wasn’t all that surprised to see him trying to balance his phone between his shoulder and his ear, with one hand holding a to-go coffee cop that must have gone cold - judging by the fact that he’d let go of the phone with his other hand to stick the freed-up hand into his arm pit for warmth. If the coffee’d had any heat at all, both hands would have been wrapped around it, tightly. 

Grabbing a mug he’d had set and waiting for Tony’s return, Ian filled it with the brewing tea that he’d only refreshed a few minutes earlier, and took the cold -as expected- coffee cup out of his hands, replacing it with the hot tea. Breaking off from his phone call to utter a teeth-chattering “Thanks,” Tony gratefully wrapped both hands around the mug and paused to take a long sip as he continued listening to the speaker on the other side of the phone call. 

“Yes, Sir. That will be more than enough time, really. I almost have it done, and can bring it by tom… Okay, that would give me a chance to look it over and polish any rough spots before... Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir. Friday morning, then. Goodb… Yes, Sir. … He is. You… okay, Yes, Sir.” 

With a grimace, Tony let go of the mug with one hand and took the phone out from the crook of his neck holding it out to Ian as he mouthed, “Sorry,” then said out loud. “Director Morrow asked me to put you on the phone.” 

Ian shrugged, it wasn’t Tony’s fault that Ian probably hadn’t been as diligent as he probably should have been. Tony'd been right when he’d said that Cresshaw and Morrow had him on ‘DiNozzo-sitting duty,’ he just hadn’t realized that the Deputy Secretary had ‘reinforced’ the expectation that Ian would be their ‘man on the ground’ watching out for Tony until DiNozzo was ‘back on his feet’. Contrary to both of their expectations, though, Director Morrow’s tone when Ian answered was almost congenial, if professionally so. 

“Hello, Son. I understand that Tony will be taking lunch with Delores again this Wednesday from two-thirty to four, have you slotted anything into your schedule for that time?” 

“No, Sir.” Ian replied, although he thought it was a bit obvious that anything he had scheduled could and would be rescheduled as needed. 

“Good. I’d like to ask you to hold that slot open to meet with me… In Cresshaw’s office. As you know, I’ve been holding off briefing you on your current assignment until we developed a better perspective of the situation. We’ve come to a consensus and would like to advise you on the long term scope of the assignment, get your feedback, and make any changes necessary, before Tony integrates them into his staffing decisions, which is one of the reasons that I’ve requested he hold back from submitting his finalized draft until EOD Friday.” 

“Of course, Sir.” 

“Thank you, Agent Edgerton. Have a good evening.” 

“Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.” Ian replied even as the phone call clicked over into a dial tone buzzed in his ear. 

“That didn’t seem like he was chewing you out for not, well, you know…” Tony trailed off, clearly embarrassed that the brass were showing the level of concern that they had been in his welfare. 

“Nope.” Ian agreed. “Setting up a meeting to discuss how I’ll fit in to the program and probably look at different ways to address coverage if they need to call me in to track someone down or as a sniper. Once we go over the details, he said you’d be integrating it into your staffing plan.” 

“Oh, okay. I’m glad. I know it’s been a bit of a hassle, but I really appreciate all the help you’ve been. I really think this could be…” 

“Hey, it was both our ideas, you just have the prettier face and a better presentation style and possibly a better head for the logistics… you know a couple of things like that. I’m good at schlepping. I’m a champion schlepper.” Ian joked, not at all bothered at being tasked with herding the man about. He respected Tony’s dedication to the job, program, and making certain that agencies upheld the standards they were supposed to stand for, even if the man didn’t seem to get the concept of regular working hours ... or regular meals … or regular sleep. Unlike some he could name, though, Tony didn’t seem the type to demand that other’s extend themselves too far, but pushed himself to do it instead. Admittedly, he’d made major headway in planning the program out, but Ian suspected that sooner or later, something was going to have to give. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> בת - daughter  
אב - father


	8. A Consequential Conference

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a note on the respective timelines: these events are falling roughly in the early middle half of NCIS Season Five, which occurs roughly three years before NCIS: LA season 1, and roughly eight years before AD Granger joins the NCIS: LA Special Projects team.

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“Agent Granger, Secretary Davenport is ready to see you. If you’ll follow me?” The Secretary of the Navy’s administrative assistant announced as she rose from her desk and moved to lead Owen down the hall. 

Instead of turning toward the Sec. Nav’s office, though, the young woman continued past his office door, to the conference room. Owen followed with a sinking feeling rising in his gut. Despite several meetings he'd been to with the Sec. Nav. prior to this, he had only been there once before (when Hetty had been called to the carpet after she had involved their team - though at the time it had been her team- in a string of incidents when one of her many past enemies decided to take revenge nearly evoking not just an inter-agency conflict, but nearly a multinational, international incident). Despite leading to his placement on the Special Projects team, it had not been a particularly enjoyable meeting in part because it was clear to both himself and to Hetty that he was being put on her team to bring her in line - starting their working relationship in a distinctly adversarial manner. Eventually they'd managed to work their way through it, with a modicum of respect for each other, if not understanding, but Owen was not looking forward to a similar posting, which he suspected he was about to be informed of - in short order. 

The sinking feeling immediately turned from the acidic burn of rockgut-swallowed-too-quickly to something more akin to a flare of white phosphorus, as he entered the conference room to the sight of the Deputy Secretary, the FBI Assistant Director, the Director of Homeland Security, and the Deputy Director of the NSA flanking the Sec. Nav. … with only one empty chair at the table and sufficiently grim expressions that made Owen mentally whisper a silent prayer that it wasn't his turn in the hot seat. 

"I'm not going to beat around the bush here, Granger, in terms of your assignment to the Special Operations' field office and Special Projects team, I don't consider your job there done - not by a long shot, but it's going to have to be another agent’s problem moving forward. We need your skills to handle another clusterfuck, one that makes Hetty’s recent… antics, look like a bit of congressional hanky-panky: bad form and embarrassing to the administration, but not anything that smacked of treason. The ever-competitive Former Director Shepard apparently felt that it was up to her to take screw ups to that next level. Sit, sit. Joshua, the files, if you will.” 

Any sigh of relief that he’d been about to give stoppered in his throat as he began reading through the files the Deputy Secretary pushed in front of him. The abstract alone sounded like it had been written by a hackneyed cold-war novelist - complete with convoluted spy games, personal vendettas, and incompetent or corrupt leaders who looked the other way... And somehow, he doubted that the former Director had been incompetent. The off the books op with against a CIA CI, though made him question that assumption somewhat. Going through the file, page after page, he became more and more incredulous until, when he finished the file and looked up, he was essentially speechless. The only question he could have asked at the moment: “How the hell had that happened on their watches - when none of this men were slouches or political appointees?" - he was far too smart and valued his career far too deeply to ever consider saying.

NCIS had been infiltrated by not just one spy but two, one of whom installed and given nearly unfettered, if not entirely un-monitored, access to classified information by the Director of the agency, who’d not only put in place on one of her teams a spy (and not just a spy and assassin, but the daughter of the Director of a Foreign Secret Service agency, who was also suspected of being complicit in the murder of the agent she would later replace on the team ) but also continued protect her even when she and another junior agent refused to follow the team lead’s requests and argued without right commands. It was no wonder the team devolved. It was a miracle from what he could see that they had even been able to solve a single case, much less keep the solve rate at close to what it had been before the senior team lead had gone on a sabbatical after being seriously injured. 

No, a miracle wasn’t the right word for it. The, then, new team lead only seemed to manage the feat by working an illegal (by EEOC standards) number of hours, while maneuvered into an off the book op, without backup, backstopped ideas, or even electronic surveillance until the arms dealer/CIA CI came to town… confirming in its own way that Shepard hadn’t been incompetent; her actions were far too manipulative to be incompetent and unintended mismanagement. She had allowed the junior agent that she’d been protecting alongside her spy to hack into some seriously dangerous and illegal databases - probably never realizing that she could have easily turned around and used the illegality of those acts as leverage at the drop of the hat, as the investigating team had found not a single document, report, email, communique, or memo that Shepard signed off on a single instance of the hacking. The merest whisper in the right ear, if she were so inclined, and Agent McGee could have found himself in a hole so deep that the light at the top of the hole -so far away- would look like a pin-prick. 

Beyond that, both the forensics lab and the morgue’s failed standard policy and procedures - though the morgue only minor-ly so by their habit allowing two bodies to be worked on at the same time in the same enclosed space without dividers and recorded reports that often ran overly long and required multiple recordings to complete the full autopsies. The forensics lab was an entirely different matter and was doubted to pass it’s next inspection. Shephard had reduced the clerical staff and appeared to foster disorganization by allowing team members to have open access to files, after having relocated cold case files into the general filing area -instead of a separate area as had been previously done- and in the name of efficiency dispensed with the protocol of agents 'checking out files through a manned desk. The type of disorganization that she had no doubt used to her own advantage, slipping in to retrieve whatever documents she saw fit and possibly handing them off to her pet spy. Shepard’s admin assistant had reported that the former Director made a daily habit of setting aside several hours to tour the entire building, which would have been understandable within the first days and weeks of a position, but so months after painted a different picture. 

While an open door policy was commendable in many ways, once Senior Supervisory Agent, Regional Lead, Assistant Director or Director established themselves and made their staff aware of the open door police, which usually implied that the individual would be in his or her office working whenever the person came to talk, there was no legitimate reason for an agent at any of these levels to spend hours going to every office space, workroom, or otherr in the building daily. There was, however, a damn illegitimate one - to make their presence so commonplace that no one noticed them going in and out, and if she’d happened to have the habit of carrying a large purse, a portfolio, or other bag, over time it becomes easier to disregard because to their perspectives it’s always with her so no one notices when she carries out a file or document or piece of evidence she shouldn’t. Owen suspected her motives regarding the forensics lab was probably much the same. 

“Granger, in order to deal with this, you would be promoted to the rank of Assistant Director, and installed as the Interim Director of NCIS. While I would like to say that this could lead to a permanent placement as the NCIS Director, we both know that position is a political appointment and that by asking you to step in to get this house in order, there is a good chance it’s going to rub Shepard’s supporters the wrong way. With that, and your own background in the CIA, I can’t make you any guarantees.” 

“I understand, Sir.” Owen agreed. He was all too familiar with Washington’s political gamesmanship, and frankly, he wouldn’t mind not having to deal - long term - with the politics maneuvering that seemed to be half of a Director’s job. What he was looking at, looked to be enough of a challenge to sink his teeth into without anything else to complicate matters, and he had no doubt that when he got into the thick of it, he would find even more complications. No matter how thorough reports were, they were incapable of telling the whole story. 

“Good. While I want you to be aware of these facts, for the time being, we are not announcing that Director Shepard is being forced to resign, nor of course that we are investigating her for espionage, abuse of authority, misappropriation of resources, and possibly treason. Investigating her will not be a part of your job in this; however, I do expect that if you discover anything in the course of getting NCIS back on track, you are to bring it to our attention; I repeat, you are to bring it to our attention, not investigate it yourself. Now, there is the matter of the second mole. NSA analysts in the course of investigating former Agent David, discovered sign in’s and data downloads that they believe she was not responsible for due to the fact that she seemed incapable of believing that she would get caught and consistently used her own login. The second set of sign in’s and data downloads have been more surreptitious, but they believe they have narrowed it down to five potential suspects. As the MCRT 1 has been effectively dissolved, your first task will be to hold a series of open interviews including the five suspects, from which these five will be selected to comprise the new team. By doing, so, we are hoping to allay any suspicions the mole may have that we are aware of his or her existence and by putting all of our suspects in the same place and on the same tasks, we can optimize surveillance and monitoring to pin down whom it may be. Additionally, once the mole is identified and arrested, the remaining members can be retained for the team. Joshua, their files.” 

The Deputy Secretary pushed another stack of files over to Owen, which he glanced at, but didn’t read. There would be time for that later. 

“Director Morrow will be coordinating this aspect of the investigation between yourself, respective NSA and FBI analysts, and another lead of a Special Operations branch that is currently … under construction, you might say. Your primary involvement will be to run the damn agency and bring it back to rights, while the other agencies do the mole hunt. This never should have been able to happen, and we are well aware it’s going to be a Herculean task to get operations back to task and able to prevent it from happening again. You may be asked to direct the … for lack of a better phrase, ‘mole team’ to specific activities or assignments, but to minimize suspicions we would prefer for these to go through dispatch instead of being handed down from your office. You will be informed of what they are before they occur. Now, do you have any questions?” 

“I am sure I will have more when I have my boots on the ground, Sir, but for the moment, the only immediate question I have is regarding the other Assistant Directors. I should think that my immediate promotion and installment into the position of Interim Director will be seen as irregular.” 

“Yes, as to that. The two others, who might have been appropriate to take on the position are problematic: Leon Vance has - at the moment- two strikes going against him. First, he was promoted under Shepard’s lead, and may have both mixed loyalties and some involvement in her machinations, and second, he is entangled up to his eyebrows with Eli David, and any mixed loyalties in that direction would be a powder keg at the moment. I’ll be straight with you. We don’t suspect him of being involved in anything … off task, or smacking of Shepard’s activities, but neither do we want to give him the chance or temptation to be. And the other Assistant Director, well, in my opinion, and I believe it’s a shared opinion,” Secretary Davenport paused to share glances and nods with the other’s of his panel, before continuing, “Frankly, he’s not up for the job, and we’re thinking of sicking him on Hetty in your place.” 

Owen had to shake his head and sigh at that statement. The Secretary, himself, had acknowledged that Owen’s job with Hetty wasn’t half done, and he’d found her more than challenging at times. If he was up to the job of redirecting NCIS, and the other man wasn’t … well… he finished his thought out loud, “She’ll eat him alive.” 

Director Morrow spoke up for the first time during the meeting, smirking in both expression and tone as he admitted, “I think that may be what some of us are hoping for.” 

“I see.” And Owen did, sometimes it was better to winnow out possible leaders who somehow managed to rise above their skills and intellect, whether by accident of luck or political maneuvering, and Hetty could be counted on to do just that. She’d probably enjoy it. 

“I thought you might. We have one other task for you, but I’ll let Tom explain that to you, later. Now, let’s start talking about logistics and come up with a game plan for how you’re going to get the agency back on track. Morrow knows more of the relevant characters of the agency and can answer any questions you may have. “ 

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Two and a half hours later, Owen walked out of the conference room with the start of a migraine, a nearly labyrinthine plan for setting the agency to rights, and rooting out the mole, (though it wouldn’t be in his task list but occurring under his watch, so they had apprised him of those details, as well)… and a very deep desire for a very strong whiskey. 


	9. Questions and Expectations

“Ian, come in.” 

”Director Morrow,” Ian greeted, acknowledging the Director and following when he stood and moved from his desk to a small conference table across the room. 

“Son, how would you describe your current detail to date?” 

Ian raised a brow at the Director’s use of ‘son’; he had noticed the (only-slightly, by a decade at most) older man use it with Tony, but that was more understandable given the larger gap between their ages, and Tony’s clear need for a father figure. It wasn’t worth mentioning, however, so he left his commentary to the raised eyebrow and answered honestly. 

“While including me in the first couple of meetings made sense when I had been a sounding board for Agent DiNozzo at the conference when he was brainstorming the program concept, looking back at the other meetings I was asked to attend, the actual purpose for including me seemed focused on providing Agent DiNozzo with a personal attache -of sorts- who can both fit into the program in a number of ways.... and who has had regular experience in helping former combat detainees both from my old unit and other units in getting back on their feet after they return stateside. When you informed Agent DiNozzo that he would have someone watching out for him ‘until he gets his footing’, I believe that the promise was more accurate than he realizes, and that a part of my detail will to be to … well, put bluntly, Sir, work on reversing whatever circumstances conditioned him to unconsciously disregard his own basic survival needs even where a reasonable justification is absent.” 

“I see,” Director Morrow nodded, “To be honest, your assessment is somewhat unexpected, if accurate, but saves us quite some time as I had developed a handful of talking points to get us to precisely that summary. Before moving forward; may I ask how you came to this conclusion?” 

Ian paused to think back over the previous weeks for the small cues that had built up into the rather unexpected idea, looking for a better answer than, ‘it was fairly obvious’. Even when someone had a good relation with their superiors, it was rarely smart to point out that said superiors were being obvious… especially to political types who liked to believe they were being ‘strategic’ or ‘cunning’. 

“Sending him back to the base with me could have been explained away as giving him space from his old team if he had stayed only one or two nights or until he made arrangements for a new apartment. His friend, the lawyer, seemed to have gotten that done by the second day, though. There had been sufficient time to assign him with on-base housing as well, if it was simply a matter of ensuring that DiNozzo's available for meetings. I don’t think he’s considered that himself, though, as he’s been too focused on getting the projection done.’ 

'Then there were your and Commander Cresshaw’s subtle orders to make sure he doesn’t get lost on base, following each of the meetings that I was presumably invited to, but never asked any questions at, which hasn’t been a problem for me. At all. As I said, I mostly played the role of a sounding board; I may have asked the right questions to help him think through the concept, but the ideas were mostly his. Still, I have been requested to attend every meeting, and all conflicts with my schedule seem to be pre-empively cleared as each meeting comes up … … and then there was just watching him. A lot of my supposition came from just watching him.” 

“How so?” Morrow questioned, concern clear in his tone. 

“Well, at first, I found it pretty amusing. I mean, you’ve seen Agent DiNozzo punch drunk… and then completely wired, awake, and on task. The first few days, there were a lot of periods where he was still so tired that his awake moments could only be achieved be as adrenaline and caffeine fueled, and as soon as the adrenaline and caffeine faded he’d fall back into these… exhausted stream of consciousness … unfiltered states. What his mind can come up with in those state is always interesting and sometimes even brilliant if occasionally ridiculous or at least focused on ridiculous topics. For example, Saturday morning, he rattled off an in-depth psychological profile of each of the servers at the base cafe while comparing each individual to a Hanna Barbera cartoon character with - I have to admit - surprising accuracy as far as I can tell based on how he described the servers I've gotten to know more or less personally.’

‘In some ways, at first, he reminded me of a forgetful professor, which wasn’t at all what I’d been expecting, having only the occasional contact call to brainstorm and discuss cases since the conference to go by. But, whenever he's on the track of an idea, he seems to treat it like a lead on a hostage situation and forgets to eat or drink or take breaks or sleep until he pins it down.” 

The concern in the director’s tone hadn’t lessened even slightly as considered Ian’s comment and asked,“You’ve said ‘at first’ at least twice and mentioned your observations of the ‘first few days’, should I assume that there has been a change recently?” 

“No, nothing’s changed, at least in terms of his behaviors, and that was the final clue in for me in, at least in as much as I've seen it before. Despite having a chance to get rest, food, and sufficient feedback from yourself, and others, to recognize that the stress was off and he can reduce his efforts to normal working hours and still be ahead of any due dates, Agent DiNozzo seems inclined to try to work between 14-16 hour work days, and that would probably be longer if I weren't on occasion tricking him into calling it a night.. when I'm not outright forcing the issue."

Ian paused to get a feel for how the director was taking his report, before he continued, " I realize the benefits this project could reap; but I have had the impression that the only person expecting DiNozzo to throw himself into the task at this rate, is Tony, himself; although, whether he sees that or not, I’m not certain.' … releasing a slight sigh at the director's firm nod of agreement.

‘In addition to sleep deprivation, I don’t know whether he simply forgets to eat or just gets so caught up in what he’s focusing on that eating seems like a useless distraction he resents wasting his time on. I’d wondered about the possibility of an eating disorder, but he doesn’t seem to even consider the content of the food he’s eating when he finally eats. As for pastimes and socializing, unless it’s focused on getting information he needs for this proposal, it seems like he’s given them up entirely. His friend, Steven, whom I believe you’ve met, stopped in a couple times last week, and could get him to break away from the project proposal and talk, but he was called back to the firm, and Agent DiNozzo hasn’t seemed to reach out to anyone else, since then.’ 

’In fact, the only signs I’ve seen that he has even a remote concept of maintaining his health are that he does take time out to run every morning, even when obviously still pushing exhaustion, and that, after being out in the cold for several hours the evening you called, he’s been careful to keep an inhaler in his coat pocket wherever he goes and asked Dr. Pitt to renew some preventative prescriptions - just in case.” 

“I see.” Director Morrow answered with an unsurprised expression before he continued, “Doctor Mallard’s, Dr. Pitt’s, and Mrs. Bromstead’s appraisals of Agent DiNozzo’s agree, and to some extent, have offered some insights into how he has reached this state; but those are mostly speculations, which I am not prepared to discuss at this moment. With, that said, I feel I should clarify our interest in DiNozzo, given that he may - for reasons, which again, I will not discuss - appear in some fashion less capable than he has demonstrated himself to be.”

“Sir, I honestly don’t need to be sold on supporting Agent DiNozzo. I’ve seen his mind at work, and to put bluntly, I’m more than impressed… even when he's in one of his stream of consciousness rambles; there's sort of a genius in how he breaks down people's behaviors and projects the end results of how they'd work together, even if he sometimes lacks the self-awareness to feed himself when he should. On top of that, from what I’ve seen and heard, the department or agency, whichever title fits better, that DiNozzo's planning sounds like it could have a major impact: one that I’d like to play a part in… so, well, I guess I’m already sold on it.“ 

“Well, Agent Edgerton, I appreciate your candor, and given it, will refrain from providing 'too many spoilers'' as I believe DiNozzo would say and let you enjoy the show. … However, I suspect there may be one other element of your assignment, which we’ve not addressed but which you may have questions about…” Director Morrow prompted seeming curious to see whether Ian had preempted his thoughts a second time. 

“Why me?” Ian suggested. 

“Yes, have you come to any conclusions regarding that?” Morrow asked with an approving expression. 

“Well, convenience could have been a factor. I was his sounding board; we seem to have a moderate rapport for that to have come about; I have experience with assisting soldiers overcoming adverse conditioning; and I am already a range instructor for FLETC, so it’s unlikely that anyone would notice the inclusion of additional program specific courses to my course load as I’ve held a handful of specialized seminars both in fugitive retrieval and advanced marksmanship.” 

“True, on all points.” Director Morrow agreed, “There is only one additional factor that gave precedence in your selection over one of the many administrative attaches who were available.” 

Morrow waited several beats, clearly waiting for Ian to mention some pertinent detail, until he realized that Ian hadn’t come up to any other conclusions and mused, “Interesting, it was perhaps the only detail that I thought you would find obvious… given your skills as a sniper.” 

And with that comment, the penny dropped for Ian, “You’re expecting an attempt on Agent DiNozzo’s life.” 

“An attempt?” Morrow raised an eyebrow, before continuing. “Unless the first attempt is successful, Agent Edgerton, I am expecting repeated attempts. Tell me, Son, considering the meetings you’ve had the opportunity to observe, has anything struck you as odd?” 

“Odd, Sir? No, not really. I’ll admit that I was a little surprised to see that DiNozzo’s idea received unanimous approval, but it’s a good concept, and there’s been far too many instances where the agencies have been infiltrated by bad actors or had agents sell out… so it didn’t seem like there would be anything that could be argued against the need for the project.” 

“Precisely… every one of the director's and agency heads may as well have been wearing a muzzle to this meetings as given the scope and nature of the project, arguing against a project would be akin to announcing the their respective agency needs to be looked into." 

Well, Ian had known that, or at least, it would probably have been obvious if he'd stopped to think about it. … As he did stop to think about DiNozzo's recent self-isolation from his friends, his promise not to leave the base the evening Morrow had called, and his urgency to get the program planned and operational asap all made a grim kind of sense that Ian didn't like at all. 

"He knows?" 

"That various heads in the CIA, NSA, DIA, and DEA (to name the most likely to have off the book operations) might have a vested interest in eliminating both the program and it's author before either can interfere with their interests? Yes, I suspect he does." 

Which was an understatement if Ian ever heard one. Looking back on everything they'd discussed so far, Ian was sure of it. 

"I see." 

"Yes, I think you do." Director Morrow agreed. "With that said, does this insight change your interest in moving forward with this program - knowing that doing so can put you in the sights of other federal officers who may be targeting you to conceal their own corrupt actions or unknowingly on the orders of a corrupt superior?" 

"Only in the sense of solidifying my commitment to do so, Sir. The fact that Tony might be targeted by other agents and agency heads, whose primary concern should be the integrity of there agencies only underscores how necessary this program is." 

"I am glad to hear that, AIC Edgerton." Before Ian could question the significant promotion from the role he'd expected to hold, Morrow explained the position, "you are aware that DiNozzo's proposal incorporates the development of standing regional extraction and retrieval teams to support rotating infiltration teams? While it may not seem necessary before these teams are built much less in place, after a great deal of consideration with regard to the disconnected nature that these teams will have to work through the Assistant Director and myself have agreed that from the beginning each division should have an AIC both as a touchstone and consistent source of advocacy and accountability… instead of starting all of the teams under DiNozzo as the AIC then at a later date making a separation to insert a new AIC for the regional teams - potentially creating a sense disconnect from the heirarchy they would have grown accustomed to. Also, as you have mentioned, you're currently slated to be the instructor teaching incoming candidates how incorporate fugitive retrieval skills into asset extraction, you will be well placed to assess potential candidates to fill out the needs of the teams you will be supervising." 

There really wasn't much that Ian could think of saying to that, so he played it safe with a simple, "Yes, Sir." 

"Don't worry, Agent Edgerton, I have confidence you'll adapt. Agent DiNozzo isn't the only one demonstrating an impressive grasp of relevant circumstances. Speaking of whom, Assistant Director Bromstead should be getting Agent in Charge DiNozzo's signatures on his hiring packet, if you'll head over, you can save them both some time and escort AIC DiNozzo back. She knows to expect you." 

"Yes, Director. Thank you." Ian acknowledged the dismissal politely, standing to leave. He was so preoccupied with the unexpected revelations that he almost didn't hear Morrow's parting comment: "By the way, I have Assistant Director Granger scoping out your first recruit. DiNozzo thinks he's a good candidate to lead an extraction and retrieval team, but felt the invite would be better coming from a third party." 

"Yes, Sir." 

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Owen shook his head as stared at the door for a half second before reaching out to turn the knob and push it open. To his surprise, however, the knob didn't turn. The door was locked. 

"What're you doing here, Granger?' a familiar gruff voice questioned. "I'm retired, in case no one's told you yet," 

"I know," Granger agreed, "but, I need to ask you something…" 


	10. Chapter 10

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“DiNozzo,” Tony mumbled into his phone, not even bothering to check the time, from how wiped he felt, it had to be somewhere in the ‘o’dark hundred’ range. 

‘Boss,” Lee’s voice warbled, sounding thin and strained, “I’m in trouble… Ziva’s kind of trouble, but it’s not just me; If I don’t do what I’m told, they’re going to kill my sister. I don’t know who’s behind it, just that you were right: they’re always watching and know everything I’m doing, everywhere I go, everything I do. The only reason I felt safe calling you now is I’m in an all night big mart and paid another shopper $100 to use her phone for five minutes.” 

“Probette, calm down. Listen to me. Don’t panic, don’t do anything out of your normal behavior. I’m going to do everything I can to get you and baby-sis out of this, safe and sound, but I need you to do a couple of things to protect your cover and keep the bad guys from knowing you’ve called. Okay?” 

“How did you know about…” Lee protested softly. 

“Little sis? I’m nosy and dug up everything I could, within three minutes of you being put on my team, post the hand-shake and ‘here’s your desk spiel’. No time to talk, though; here’s what I want you to do: when I tell you to hang up, hang up; give the woman back her phone; then, I want you to do some very select shopping so that anyone who’s watching you won’t think too deeply about why you’re out this late - the type of shopping you do once a month that men don’t really like to think about; go back home; and in the morning, go to work as if this conversation never happened. Leave the rest to me.” 

“What are you going to do?” 

“Prove you were right to trust me with this. I’ll need to bring some people in on this to make sure you’re both protected, but I swear they’ll be people we can trust, and I’ll do it carefully. Don’t contact me, unless it would be something bad guys would expect you to contact me about. I’ll find a way to get a meeting with you under their radar. Hang tight, and hang up now.” 

The cell phone connection cut as abruptly as if it were a call from Gibbs, and Tony sat up, groaning as he glanced at the phone. ‘O’dark hundred’ turned out to be 3:38 a.m. Too early to get Morrow, et. al. on the phone without rash and rushed decisions being made, of the variety that could see the Lee sisters joining their dearly departed parents well-before they should. That didn’t mean it was too early to get started on it himself though. 

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“What the hell, Tony?” Ian grumbled, coming into his kitchen to find a sleep bedraggled Tony crutchbing his forehead against the same hand that was barely keeping hold of the hopefully empty coffee cup as he other hand scrawled out some kind of drawing with slashed lines going in various directions, connecting up to what Ian thought were thought bubbles, but he wasn’t entirely sure. He had a semi-circle of pages torn out of the legal pad spread out in front of him that he was looking between as he drew, and 

“You were supposed to be sleeping. You just turned the proposal in on Friday. Even if the powers that be called folks in on Saturday to review it, the earliest it could have gone before any sort of sub-committee for approval is... still two hours away … or as most people like to call it - the start of the work day. What are you doing up? Wait, no, how fresh is that coffee, first? Then, what are you doing up?” 

“About three hours old, plus or minus.” 

~~~Well, at least he had ...~~~ Ian paused, mid-thought, to do the math: ~~~ five hours sleep.~~~ 

It was a start he supposed; especially as Tony had called it a night last night, on his own; although, if it was intentionally done to get Ian to crash, so he could get back up without Ian harassing him to rest… well, Tony had no idea how sneaky he could get. 

“So, what’re you working on? Realize you forgot something in the proposal?” Ian asked as he started to take a sip. 

“No, I know who the NCIS mole is.” Tony answered, tiredly. “Or at least one of them.” 

The splash of hot, wet coffee that soaked Ian’s t-shirt after he’d jerked his head up to stare at Tony with his jaw undoubtedly dropped, prompted him to slam the cup back down onto the counter and grab for one of the shop towels turned hand towels he kept in the kitchen. Wiping at the shirt, he walked back over to the kitchen table to study the picture Tony was drawing and the spray of pages. 

“Okay, I know you didn’t know who it was when we were first pitching your idea, and you haven’t been back to NCIS since, and only one call that I know of from your… the agent you called probette, but if you’d known then, you would have said something then or during the meeting with Morrow, yesterday. What happened between 4:30 yesterday and 4:00 a.m. this morning? Did you have some kind of epiphany that you finally got enough sleep to sic your subconscious on it?” 

“No, rather a literal wake up call. From the mole, herself, who claims that she’s doing so under duress, to protect the life of her sister. I don’t have proof of the fact, but did already know of the sister, and I believe her. I think watching Ziva, who - quite frankly - was leagues above probette in terms of spy skills, being brought down was her own wake up call and brought home the likelihood of her own discovery as well as the likely consequence for her sister if she was. “ 

“Probette? This the junior agent, from when you were the team lead, that you’re talking about?” Ian asked carefully, not wanting to imply any censure. The woman had only been on Tony’s team a little over three and a half months, during which time Tony had essentially been doing the work of three as well as an off the books investigation on the former Director’s order. The paperwork alone would have prevented any functional monitoring. That wasn’t his primary concern, in any event. 

“That would be her.” Tony agreed. 

“Tony, regardless of whether everything she’s told you is true or not, have you considered the possibility that this could be a move against you? Whether she’s the initiator or she’s truly being targeted, it might not be a coincidence that she was a junior member of your team. You and Morrow both agreed that you’re anticipating attempts on your life. Someone could be trying to draw you out.” 

Tony nodded and plucked up a legal pad page and handed it to Ian to read as he agreed. “It had occurred to me.” In the center of the page, Tony had drawn a circle around the word ‘Timing’ with branches stretching out to each side in a decision tree with ‘Suspicious’ on one side and ‘Coincidental’ on the other. 

ブレンキン

You up early or never bedded down? Gibbs questioned as he returned to refill his mug. It wasn’t a question he really needed to ask, Damon’s eyes were nearly glazed over with the lack of sleep.” 

The latter. Damon almost grunted. Gibbs wouldn’t begrudge him for it, though. He hadn’t expected the new assistant director’s visit any more than Gibbs himself had. 

You come to a decision?

Damon pushed his fingers up into his hair gripping the strands that were only barely long enough to split between his fingers and clenched his skull as he stared down at the tabletop. After a long, obviously conflicted moment, fingers still clenching his skull, Damon dropped his chin with a fatalistic seeming surrender to the decision. I’m gonna do it. the young marine announced, not explaining what it was. 

Gibbs didn’t ask, though; both Granger and Morrow before him had driven home the point that Gibbs no longer had the right to ‘need to know’ information or even ‘casually confidential’ gossip that tended to pass the rounds through various agencies. 

So, what’s eatin’ ya up? Gibbs pressed. He may not have a right to any of the details of the offer Granger had made to the young man. 

I feel like I’m giving up on the chance to go back out in the field... to keep my team safe, but I know there’s no guarantee that, even if the Corps go with a retroactive waiver for the steroid use, I’d ever be sent back in the field again.

Gibbs stayed quiet on that point, knowing that corporal hadn’t yet come to terms with his therapist’s diagnosis. While she’d ultimately agreed with the forensic psychologist that Tony had arranged to speak at the trial - countering Ducky’s unintentionally-defaming statement - that Damon hadn’t suffered a psychotic break… but had - instead - diagnosed ‘Combat Stress’ and was leaning toward reporting him medically unfit for duty as a result. The corporal had been wrecked the night he came home with that news and promptly drank himself to a stupor. There was another point to make, though, and he hoped the young man was ready to listen. 

Bein a grunt’s not the only way you can protect your buddies. NCIS protects Sailors and Marines, too. 

It’s not the same. Werth grumbled probably more from lack of sleep than from any actual disdain despite the tone of his grumble. He glanced away, too, his look telling Gibbs thing he’d been slightly off the mark in his comment, but he didn’t want to get off track so set it aside for later. 

Didn’t say it was. Gibbs offered in slight agreement. He knew where his argument was going, and the small deferral was easy enough to give if it would keep the corporal listening. NCIS agents work to protect something more valuable to any of your buddies than their own lives… or at least they do now. Way back, before I made the same decision you’re thinking over now, there were a lot fewer of us, too few to have any chance doing much more than investigate fraud and counterintelligence affecting the Navy. Even the main headquarters, here in Washington, only had a dozen or so agents and a handful of scientists. Gibbs glanced over to see that he had Werth’s full attention.

Crime rates were higher then, too; coke, heroine, LSD were starting to flood the streets; gangs were starting to fight over their bits of the block, It was affecting everyone, soldiers, sailors, marines, their families, but back then, most of it was left to the police and FBI to do what they could, and they had their hands full. Serving the bases and military families wasn’t and couldn’t be the priority to LEOS, having to serve the city as a whole, that it was to the sailors and marines who were coming and going from deployments. Back then NIS’s primary focus was internal to the Navy. It grew into something more… but not before some of us lost the people in our lives that made everything worthwhile. A couple of years ago, my team found out about my first wife and my daughter. They all knew I’d been divorced three times, just didn’t know I’d been married four. Seventeen years, I didn’t talk about them, not to anyone, found a reason not to talk to my father about them, didn’t let anyone else close enough to talk about them, still don’t.” 

Gibbs kept his eyes on his mug as he spoke, not wanting to see pity, sympathy, or understanding in the younger man’s eyes. None of it helped Gibbs, but if hearing about his girls helped Werth make the right decision and help - in his and Tony’s place - to protect others from feeling that same loss -- well, then it was worth making his point. 

Joined up with NCIS after that,  he continued, Wanted to be one of the ones looking beyond the Navy offices to the personnel and families they served… looking out for them - protecting them. Over the years, I’ve done that, and I can’t say I ever regretted that decision. Don’t think you will either. 

His peace said, Gibbs refilled his mug and headed back down to the basement to work on his boat. 


End file.
